


Things Lost in the Fire

by ajattra



Category: Terra Nova (TV)
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, F/M, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-29 21:58:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 137,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajattra/pseuds/ajattra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU story. Skye meets a strange man at Snakehead Falls and ends up falling in love. But can happiness built on anonymity last, when the world around them is on fire? How does their unlikely lovestory affect the future of Terra Nova & the Sixers? Lucas x Skye, some Mira x Carter in later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paper Hearts

**Author's Note:**

>   
> 

It was another lovely afternoon in Terra Nova, the land of promise and new beginnings. The sun offered its love on the lush forests and shining, clear waters, kissing rock, land and plant life alike. The lonely hiker adored the feel of sweat on her body and the way the warmth crept everywhere. She knew she’d come to heaven once she reached her destination: cool waters to swim in, privacy from prying eyes and questions, and just some time to think. Skye had been planning this retreat for awhile now, gathering what she needed and mapping everything in her head.

She’d come alone this time, needing a moment to herself. The double life she lead was wearing her down, and for once she didn’t want to see or hear anything compromising, because then she’d would’ve been obligated to report it to Mira. No, today she just wanted to swim, sunbathe and enjoy this paradise her parents had brought her to.

She wasn’t stupid though; she’d told Hunter where she was going and made him promise he’d tell Commander Taylor if she wasn’t back by nightfall (Hunter never could say no to her). She had a knife with her and her quick wits, seeing how Skye was not the type to freeze in unexpected situations. Then again she also knew she’d get help from the Sixers if things turned bad; she was their golden girl after all. She’d also chosen her location well: the falls were familiar ground she’d treaded on dozens of times. Curiously, Skye found that a little excitement wouldn’t hurt either, even if she’d meant this day to be a moment of relaxation.

Sweat dribbled down her hairline and glued her top over her back. She took a quick gulp from her water bottle before she continued walking, already hearing the sound of the falls in the distance. The mere thought of the cool water’s embrace brought a smirk on her face. Adjusting her backpack she hopped over some larger rocks and quickly found her footing again. She was in prime condition, experienced in hiking and the territory so this trip had barely exhausted her. Skye might’ve considered asking Commander Taylor for military training, had her loyalties not been divided by her promise to Mira. It was like all she had were other obligations to fulfill, and none of them involved following her own heart’s desire.

Noises resounded in the distance, probably just a howler or a distant predator. She knew this wasn’t the territory of any of the more dangerous predators like nykoraptors or carnos, but it wasn’t unusual for young males to wander a bit in search of prey. However, Skye found it quite unlikely she’d encounter anything she wasn’t prepared for at this time of day. She’d chosen the Snakehead Falls because they were very secure from a military point of view: distant from the Sixer camp, hard to access by foot, basically just rocks and water with nothing to interest the wildlife.

Thirty minutes later she lowered her backpack upon reaching her destination. Skye leaned over the ledge a bit to look deep down into the swirling water below. Next she scanned the area and just listened for a moment, knowing she’d make a quick return if her gut instinct told her to. Nothing came up, it was serene and beautiful, which led her to the conclusion that it was safe to continue. She began removing articles of clothing, placing each inside her water proof backpack, until she was down to her bikini. She removed a little piece of jewellery last, something she’d been meaning to give to her mother any day now, and tucked it into her backpack with a kiss.

Then she jumped sans the usual screaming, unwilling to attract any spectators to her sanctuary. The freefall felt amazing, as gravity pulled her closer with force while her body felt as light as a feather. The experience always filled her with joy, this deep sense of fulfillment until she hit the water, and reality came back crashing. She went under quickly, nearly swallowing some water as she sank, but kept her wits. The sun hid after she was pulled into her stream that flowed through a narrow cavern, but she didn’t mind the darkness. It was comforting to be forgotten and hidden. Usually too many eyes were upon her, dictating her worth and next action.

The water washed away the dirt, heat and sweat that had gathered all over her during the long hike. She swam to the surface and gasped for air hungrily, a satisfied smile on her lips. Her backpack floated next to her in a minute, prompting her to grab it. The water’s embrace was simply put perfection after a hot day. She enjoyed its feel all over her, floating along the stream and holding onto her backpack until the waters became still.

The cavern ended and light came pouring in, blinding her. She found the bottom of the river with her feet and stood up to greet her friend, the sun. It responded with overwhelming ardor, countering the effects of the cool water. She sent the sun flying kisses with her fingers and waved, wading onwards in the water, until the river grew narrow and shallow. Her movement was silent; she was trapped in her own thoughts, already calling this the perfect day. Everything came to a halt when she realized there was a shirtless man by the rocks, making carvings of gold on them.

She wasn’t alone.

Skye froze, realizing quickly that this was the only thing she had not prepared for. Terra Novans moved in groups, always in groups, and he did not look feral like the Sixers, so there was no guarantee of her safety. Her eyes sought for the backpack with panic, her brain commanding her to reach for the knife. Then she already discarded the thought, realizing he had a knife on his belt and a gun lying on the rocks a by his feet. She was outgunned and physically less imposing, so she really had nothing to threaten him with.

As she watched him, holding her breath, thinking for a way to emerge victorious in the face of this challenge, he continued to carve markings into the rocks almost oblivious to her presence, obviously deep in thought. Skye could make out shapes now. They appeared to be equations. This piqued her interest, killing the alarm in her brain somewhat. Brainy types were rarely fighters in her experience. Perhaps there was a chance to reason with him?

Skye allowed her eyes to explore, search for clues to his identity. Instead she realized she was scanning his tanned back and the scars there. He was fit and had some muscle. Messy curls kissed his sweaty neck, which made his dark hair even curlier. He appeared more than able to fight, yet the solution of talking was appearing more and more alluring. Skye knew she could be very persuasive when she wanted to.

Then he stopped to admire his work, took a step to turn around. She bit her lip not to let a whimper escape her lips, begged silently for more time. Time remained relentless, however, and her mystery man noticed her instantly, surprise taking form on his face. He had green eyes, handsome face and more scars on his front. She withdrew her earlier evaluation that this man was not feral enough to be a Sixer. She could see it now: he belonged in the woods, far from civilization.

Neither of them spoke at first, they simply stared at one another, each making evolutions on the target’s threat level. Skye supposed she didn’t seem that threatening: she was a cute girl in a bikini, wading in see-through waters. There was nowhere to hide a weapon except her backpack. However, she counted her charms as a weapon though he might not.

He shifted nervously and then moved closer to her, soft voice inquiring, “What are you doing here?”

Skye felt the tension release and smirked in relief, laughter bubbling inside her. “What does it look like?” she asked with a teasing voice, “I came here to sunbathe.”

Surprisingly, he too smiled back at her, puzzled but amused. She faced him so fearlessly, no clue of his identity of plans, like they were just two people running into one another at a market, when it was glaringly obvious that they were from opposite sides. Lucas had been secluded quite long if a chance encounter with a Terra Novan could end without recognition like this. For a moment there he’d already feared the worst.

Skye focused on the carvings again, moving out of the water and over dry rocks. “What are you doing?” she asked, genuinely curious and excited at this strange acquaintance she’d just made. Some distance remained between them though, even if steps had been taken to reassure each of their peaceful intentions.

Lucas raised a brow at her question, unable to grasp her reaction to his presence. She spoke to him so naturally, no signs of fear or distrust in her demeanor. “Why aren’t you afraid?” he asked, forgetting his calculations for a second, finding this distraction enough to hold his interest. Nowadays only few things could manage this feat.

Skye shrugged effortlessly, maintaining her easy-going smile. “I have no reason to assume you’d hurt me, do I?” she quipped and put her backpack on the rocks, closing in on him to get a closer look at his work. She hadn’t seen him before at the camp, so maybe he’d been on his own awhile. Maybe he didn’t know anything about her part in the struggle between the Sixers and Terra Nova?

Lucas tensed when Skye came up to him and began looking at the carvings, tracing them with her fingers, like an infant that wanted to touch everything to experience it. He quickly ignored his suspicions though, knowing he still had the upper hand. The girl couldn’t do anything he didn’t want her to, and he’d been in solitude for a long time, so why not enjoy her company for a bit?

“Are you a scientist?” Skye asked, having absorbed the sight of the carvings enough. They were beautiful in a strange way. His handwriting made for some peculiar art. She suspected this was all for practical reasons though: no computers in the jungle.

“I suppose I am,” Lucas admitted, focusing on her slender neck and unblemished skin. Her frame was in perfect propositions and she stood by him so naturally. He didn’t remember the last time he’d experienced arousal, yet the kind itch was familiar and closing in already. Perhaps she knew what she was doing to him; perhaps it was all her intention? A cynic lived inside him, always finding new suspicions. His senses told him that her smile was genuine though. Lucas was good at deception himself, so he trusted in his ability to spot a liar.

“Isn’t it dangerous to wander outside Terra Nova alone?” Lucas asked, luring her into eye contact. Skye was overwhelmed by his eyes at close range: the green of spring grass was vivid. Shivers ran down her spine, excitement bubbled in her stomach. “I’ve done it before,” Skye answered, like it was no big deal.

Then Lucas understood, feeling ridiculed that it had not crossed his mind earlier. “You’re the spy,” he realized, speaking his thoughts aloud. For some reason Skye didn’t feel as uncomfortable hearing that as she usually did. Who would he even tell? “Yes,” she admitted, “I have a deal with Mira.”

He suddenly found no excuses to ask her to leave, nor did he want to. He wanted to watch her touch the carvings he’d engraved, to appreciate his hard work, to smile back at him. Why hadn’t he realized how much he’d missed just talking to others? Was it because he so rarely found an intriguing person to communicate with? Was it because he knew this person had their reasons to backstab his father as well? No matter the reason, he wanted her to stay.

“I’m finished for now anyway,” he continued, almost clumsy in his proposition, “Would you like stay with me?”

Skye felt her heart jump a bit, her thoughts became jumbled. His voice had such a strange effect on her, like a pleasant spell, mesmerizing. “Why not?”

Lucas led them to sit on the rocks near the gentle stream. He sunk his legs in the water, and Skye followed his example. Truth be told, she felt a bit safer with him around. Now she’d have less to worry if some animal tried to attack. Then again his presence brought worth new dangers, at least according to her instincts. Yet in this case she’d rather call them opportunities.

“So how long have you been out here alone?” The question came naturally; it flowed like conversation between old friends, surprising even Skye.

“I came on the second pilgrimage,” Lucas revealed, forgetting for a moment that it might’ve been better not to allude too strongly to his identity. For some strange reason he felt compelled to trust her, an unspoken truce was here. “But I’ve been on my own for five years now,” he then added, unwilling to consider his random encounters with Mira or her lackeys any kind of support.

“Wow, that’s long. I’m from the fifth pilgrimage. I don’t remember much from, you know, before, these days,” Skye blabbered a bit, as that gentle storm inside grew stronger. She leaned back on her hands and paddled her feet in the water, while Lucas sat with his feet firmly against the side of the rock, leaning over his knees. He’d also emerged his feet under water, yet saw no reason to move them.

“I remember all too well…” Lucas almost got swept in his thoughts like he always did when he thought about life before. Somalia, his mother, his dreams – they all were topics he liked to avoid, because his self-control got harder and harder to maintain when he recalled those days.

Skye noticed the strain in his voice and leaned in to whisper, “We don’t have to talk about that.” For a second her shoulder touched his side, and then she leaned away again, making herself comfortable in her position by moving her wet hair on her back.

He made the mistake of looking at her when she did that: an innocent moment of physical contact lit a fire inside. He devoured her with his eyes, imprinting every detail in his memory, knowing he’d revisit this moment on another cold night.

“Let’s talk about you. What’s your name?” he asked, realizing he’d rather not talk at all, just enjoy the silence.

“I’m Skye. Skye Tate,” she responded, extending her hand for him to shake. “Lucas,” he responded, wisely omitting his last name from this introduction.

He gave her hand a firm shake and slid his thumb over her hand during it. He could see the effects of this gesture all over her: she was very receptive. A small hint of thirst flashed in her eyes, giving him a taste of things to come. She was unlike anyone he’d met before: adventurous, fearless, yet soft and feminine when needed.

Skye withdraw her hand from his, recognizing the way this stranger looked at her. Boys had given her that look many times before, but never a man and no one like Lucas. He had a presence to him: brilliance, arrogance, and confidence along with his comforting voice. She felt like she could tell him anything. There was a budding attraction between them, which would’ve normally made her nervous, but she was just curious this time, eager to experience.

“I’m hiding here actually,” she revealed and laid her back on the rock, staring at the sky and the shifting clouds above. It was easier to talk when his handsome face didn’t throw her mind in disarray. “It’s not easy lying to everyone you know. Sometimes you just need to be yourself out in the open.”

“And who are you really, Skye?” Lucas moved as well, turning to lie on his side beside her. This way he could see her while she talked, appreciate and record everything in his memory. The sight of her lying next to him proved to be quite enthralling. Again he felt the pull of need and lust.

“A traitor, obviously,” she confessed bitterly. He could hear the hurt and shame in her voice, how they clutched her insides. “Someone, who lies to her friends and family, and takes walks in the middle nowhere to confess to strangers,” she went on speedily, like her heart would burst from the weight she carried inside unless she spoke aloud.

She’d even clenched one hand into a fist, nails digging into her hand palm as she squeezed it shut. Her sunshiny exterior had fallen, and he could see the real reason she was here now: the exhaustion in this tired young woman.

Lucas hesitated for a second, yet ignored his doubts and moved his hand on hers, caressing her fist. “You’re a good person,” he said softly, knowing she would not feel torn unless she was acting against her morals. He couldn’t blame her, she was young. She had yet to see the treachery of his father, but he just might teach her.

Skye lost words when he touched her, desire awakening inside her, a sleeping dragon she’d forgotten while she’d played spy. Now it wanted her to fix this negligence. His hands were calloused from manual labor, hardened by his fight for survival. In fact Lucas looked weathered entirely, his chest covered in bruises and scars, the most alarming one on his neck. She wanted to reach and touch it, touch him all over and forget her predicament, her problems. It wasn’t what good girls did, but she hadn’t been good girl so far, now had she?

“How old are you?” she asked, frowning when her question made him stop that maddening motion with his thumb. It was as if Lucas needed a moment to count, to remember how long it’d been. His face betrayed his thoughts, verified her conclusion. “Twenty-five, twenty-six?” he suggested, not interested in the answer himself.

“And you?” For a lingering moment he suspected he might’ve miscalculated her age, and should’ve let his desires go if she was indeed too young. Skye corrected him though. “Old enough,” she retorted, leaving no room for objections.

They lingered in contact for an extended moment, whilst fascination grew. Skye’s heart was loud and fast, she feared he’d see it so clearly in the way her chest rose and fell with haste. He didn’t notice though, he only saw her, piercing his armor.

Lucas inched closer, his hand sliding down from her fist and around her waist. Then he just leaned over her and pressed his lips against hers, drowning them both in sweet passion. Skye brought her hands to his neck, caressing it, holding onto him while her body arched in enjoyment. Her tongue moved between their lips, making him respond enthusiastically, as the kiss lasted longer than intended. She pulled him closer when their lips parted, inviting him on top of her.

It was lunacy, but by damn, it was better than anything in a long time. Skye felt everything else melt away, except him and his touch. She embraced this piece of heaven whole-heartedly and willingly.

He could feel her smile against his kisses, worried for a moment that his unshaven chin would scrape her beautiful skin. Her closeness expelled those thoughts though, as she pushed against him forcibly, her lips eliciting an excited gasp. There was no room for conscious thoughts after that anymore. His body was hijacked by the more basic parts of his brain. Even if he’d forgotten how people worked in society, how they related and talked, he couldn’t forget this, it lived under his skin, untouchable.

She was perfection beneath his fingers. He pulled the top of her bikini open, she yanked at his cargo pants to get them off him. He helped her in her task, removing his underwear as well, before glancing at her and the bottom of the bikini that still covered her and motioning her to remove it with his finger. She complied happily. Skye didn’t even mind her nakedness when they continued kissing fiercely. His hands found her breast, rubbing and caressing their way through, towards her belly.

When he entered her with his finger, she responded by biting his shoulder playfully. Lucas claimed eye contact, the pain humming in the back of his head, somewhere distant. He only felt her inviting warmth, that maddening tightness between her legs, and then suddenly her grip around his length. She smirked mischievously, moving her hand up and down, first slowly, then faster. He responded by moving another finger inside her, rubbing that sweet spot that sent waves across her body.

Her hips bucked against him, yearning for something rougher, while she gripped almost too tight, but just right. Motion became a blur, sensations heightened.

“Gently Skye,” he urged her, his soft voice turning tense. “Not so fucking gently Lucas,” she begged in return, writhing in pleasure.

He wanted those hips working their magic on him, yet reason argued against him. There was no protection, and he didn’t want any complications from this charming moment of betrayal from his self-control.

He added a third finger inside her, listened to her panting, allowing it to guide him towards the right rhythm. He kissed her neck, touched her all over with his spare hand, unable to stop willingly. She bit his earlobe playfully, whispering hoarsely in his ear, “What’re you waiting for? I want you.”

Her voice only aroused him more; even when he pulled back a bit, his hand cupping her face. “We shouldn’t,” he argued, trying to be the responsible one when she pulled her hand away from him.

“Fuck that,” Skye said harshly, inviting him to madness. And Lucas couldn’t argue against this strange girl, who’d invaded his privacy and driven his brilliant mind asunder just with her presence.

He pulled his fingers from inside her, positioned himself on her. But it was Skye, who bucked her hips forward, joining them together. She continued to move underneath him, leaving him breathless in this dance. This had to be what going mad felt like, he thought with a smile, when she pushed him over and climbed on top of him. Skye ran her hands across his chest, touching each scar, while she rocked her hips in perfect motion.

It didn’t take much longer for her to float after that. His pleasure remained unreached though, so she brushed away the ache of fulfillment and focused on him. Lucas put his hands around her face, pulling her closer to him, sinking his fingers in her hair. He kissed her again and again, hungry for the taste of her kiss. Waves of pleasure crushed against him, and he wondered about her and kismet. Like a dying man he’d lived in seclusion, only to stumble upon her one beautiful day, and fall in love.

She observed him, that look of utter happiness when she brought him to the edge and gently dropped him off. She then slowly moved off him, settling herself beside him, while he lay still. A smirk played her lips, satisfaction burned in her body, yet her curiosity wasn’t quite yet sated. Who was he really? Why was he here alone, making his calculations in such a desolate place? Why did he have such an effect on her?

Just as she’d relaxed and evened her breathing back to normal, he suddenly rolled on top her again, dark eyes piercing hers. They were so full of excitement and life, inviting her to another world where you made your own path. She could tell he was no follower. Lucas did what he wanted, ignoring the objections. Skye wanted to be like that too: to have that courage.

At first Lucas looked like he was about to say something, perhaps a joke or a compliment, yet no sound escaped his lips. His hand stroked her cheek, gentle in its touch. “You’re quite a siren Skye Tate,” he finally said, teasing her a bit, once he relocated his voice.

“Me?” Skye feigned innocence and surprise, “I don’t even know your last name.”

This was true, of course. Perhaps it’d been deception to omit that little detail, but Lucas had to protect himself, even from danger as beautiful as her. Guilt pressed at his chest though, seeing the discreet way she asked him for more after she’d given him everything without complaint. Skye was an open book while he remained encrypted.

“Nothing good would come out of it,” Lucas said, reality prickling at his insides. This was something impossible, no matter how good it felt. If there was a chance his identity could ruin everything, he was quite sure it would.

Skye absorbed his words, her smile growing fainter. “I see,” she said, nearly losing her voice before she pushed him back, rose to a sitting position and began searching for her swimwear. The magic was gone, cold reality had struck in its place. She wasn’t just betraying the colony to help her mother, but also sleeping with a Sixer!

Lucas couldn’t help feeling like an asshole, even when his actions were completely justified in his mind. He saw the hurt bleed onto her face whilst she rose, trying to hide her disappointment in action. This sight was worse than anything he remembered in a long time, an instant punch in his gut. Skye pulled her bikini back on, feeling the need to clothe herself now that she’d made such a fool of herself. Shame burned her, but underneath it that attraction remained, growing roots already.

When she was done she turned back to him, finding him still quite naked and apparently bewildered. Skye couldn’t help smiling at him. She picked up his underwear and threw it playfully on him, winking, “Perhaps it’d be better you get dressed too.” Then she walked right past him to reach her backpack.

He followed her advice quickly, pacing after her once he’d pulled his underwear on. Skye had leaned over her backpack, clearly looking for something inside. Lucas tugged at her arm, getting her to straighten up before he pressed her against the rocky wall, kissing her again. She responded eagerly, thoughts of leaving and being ridiculed quickly slipping off her mind. It felt so insanely good to be in this man’s arms, there were no words for it. It was crazy to act this way with someone you just met. Skye’s mind was in disarray and his closeness didn’t help, it only made things more confusing.

He parted their lips, pressing his forehead against hers. Skye swallowed loudly, feeling weak to her knees when he looked at her like that, so longingly. His green eyes were amazing close-up: they remained pure and intense, even when the rest of him relaxed in her presence.

“Please understand,” Lucas said, brushing a loose strand of her hair behind her ear as he spoke, “My work is at a crucial point. I need to finish it, and no one can know I’m here.”

Skye nodded, counter-arguments rising to the top of her head quickly. She wanted to be difficult, to demand answers, but something warned her against taking this action. Her heartbeat was loud again, it thundered in her ears.

“But you’re not going to be here after today, are you?” she settled to ask instead, reading the answer from his face while he hesitated. Like she’d suspected, there was little chance they’d cross one another’s paths again. This information paralyzed her for a moment.

Lucas pulled back enough to see her face clearly, witness the realization sink before he confirmed it. “No, I won’t be back here. It’s too dangerous,” he explained, every word dictated by his sense, not his heart. Each word tugged at his heartstrings, riling him further. It wasn’t fair.

Skye glanced at the carvings she’d admired jealously from her eye corner. They would remain here long after he was gone, a constant reminder of this day and these feelings. “I should go back,” she mulled aloud, feeling his arms tighten around her a moment later.

“Don’t,” Lucas begged, knowing letting her go would mean letting her go for good. He wanted to savor this as long as he could.

But Skye countered his plead with irritation, hurt all over her fine features, “Don’t?” she stressed his words, anger starting to crack through her ardor, “You’re not even willing to meet me half-way here, Lucas. I don’t owe you anything.”

Her voice gained a dangerous dimension then. He usually would’ve met such aggression with a taste of his own resolve, but with her he could only admire the strength she showed. No violent impulses climbed from the back of his spine, he didn’t flare at her.

“No you don’t,” Lucas admitted humbly, watching intently at the way her chest rose quicker when she was irritated, “But I’m asking you for more anyway. I don’t want this to end yet.”

His sincerity scared her and him, but they both recognized this encounter as something time would etch into their memories as special, no matter what followed. There was a fragile connection here that wouldn’t be cut even with distance or time.

Skye looked back at Lucas, his serene expression betraying nothing but the desire behind his request, and felt her irritation subdue bit by bit. It occurred to her that whatever mission Lucas was on had put him in these woods alone for the past five years, conditions she would’ve considered hell herself, and she was probably one of the few things outside his mission that brought him joy. She didn’t pity him though; she knew it would’ve been futile. Lucas had chosen this freely, and she’d reminded him of what he’d missed because of that choice. She was a reminder of his humanity.

Her long silence ended with a sigh of defeat, and she lowered her gaze from his face, landing her hands on his chest. “You win,” she surrendered, sending shivers of relief all across his body. “I’ll stay a little while longer, but then I will leave, and it’ll be unlikely for us to run into one another, which I suppose is golden if you’re trying to stay hidden.” Skye was rambling again, trying to vent her frustration in speech.

Lucas listened to her willingly, each statement adding more weight on his chest, until her buried her in his arms again, silencing her. He clutched her in his arms, that overflowing feeling of love inside him again. He’d never felt this way, and feared he never would.

“I’ll find you when my work is done,” he whispered a promise, fully intent in keeping it. His lips brushed her ear, his stubble feeling so familiar against her cheek already. “What work?” Skye teased him, moving her own arms around him as well. No one had held her in a long time, and never like this, never like this.

Lucas smirked at her words, finding the humor in them. “Why I can’t tell you that,” he responded with a similar tone of voice, inhaling her scent to remember it as well.

“What can you tell me then?” Skye asked, bemused by his presence. “I want you,” he confessed, his voice raunchy, deep. “I want you, no one but you,” Lucas continued, kissing her neck and cheek and finally her lips. Skye didn’t resist. She just went with the flow, that lovely feeling of falling.

TBC


	2. No Hard Feelings

It was dangerous to linger, but she did it anyway. It was dangerous to look at him, when he observed her, his hand moving across her side almost passively, but she did it anyway. One glance led to a kiss so easily, and she didn't quite understand this attraction.

To Skye romance hadn't been an option until now. Love required trust, which she couldn't give – not when she was the betrayer herself. It didn't mean she hadn't experienced intimacy. There'd been a few times: childish crushes and regret, fumbling in the dark with the excitement of being caught any minute. This was something else. It was out in the open between them, two people acting like they could be intoxicated by each other's company.

She feared nothing with him by her side, and those horrible feelings inside her subsided for once. This feeling wasn't anything she'd experienced before. Like he'd snatched her soul, not her arm, and pulled it to him.

Skye leaned her head against her elbow, lain over her side on the rocks, the river's flow rippling by her toes. Lucas' position mirrored hers, only his hand was on her side, caressing her skin. They had embraced silence, wearied by their physical activities for now. She didn't know what she could ask him without being denied answers, so she chose to remain silent. His mind was anything but silent though. He made predictions, approached her like an equation that needed to be solved, not knowing any other way to make sense of this.

"Won't your family miss you?" Lucas asked, craving for every detail she'd reveal. He was building a picture in his head, memorizing everything, drawing lines and connections.

Skye reacted with a distant expression, sadness on her mind. "My father died a few years ago. Sincyllic fever. He was supposed to inoculated, but apparently it was a bad batch," she explained, her loss visible in her trembling voice. It was so difficult to talk about it even now. "And my mom," she continued, taking a pause to keep her emotions in check, "She's with Mira, sick as well. I help out so they'll keep giving her the meds."

Motive, another piece in the puzzle fit in so nicely. Lucas brought his hand to her cheek to reassure her, make her forget about this tragedy. She leaned into his touch, empowered by their closeness. "You're all alone then," Lucas stated, thinking how similar they were.

"I have my housemates," Skye corrected, "they're like family. And then there's Commander Taylor, of course."

His heart skipped a beat at the mention of his father; although she was too busy explaining the situation to him to notice how deeply her words affected him. Lucas remembered that moment five years ago, how he'd held the gun and been too weak to pull the trigger. How his father had bested him and thrown him away like trash, exiling him.

"He took me in. He's kinda like a foster father. We play chess together, and he listens if I have something on my mind," she told him, mulling over her bond with the Commander, feeling the sting of her own actions stronger again.

And once again, Lucas was left feeling ridiculed. How had he not known about this? This girl, who'd come to him like a revelation, was also someone his father had chosen to fill the void left by his betrayal. His father had chosen her, taken her under his wing and guided her. Everything he should've had with his father was hers.

Jealousy stung him for a moment, until he realized she probably didn't even know his father had a son. It'd be just like the great Commander to wipe away his existence, never talk about his failure. How could he blame her, when all she wanted was someone to replace the father she'd lost?

A new realization found him, stuck on a loop in his head. In a sense they were brother and sister, their bond was beyond infatuation. Perhaps kismet wasn't too elusive after all; perhaps it was all in his reach. Had she been sent here to stand by his side, help him destroy his father?

Skye realized she must've said something to upset him, his face was so serious all of the sudden. Then she realized he'd been alone for a long time. Perhaps he really had no one. It was cruel to flaunt the people who cared about her in his face when he had no one. "I'm sorry," she apologized, inching closer. "I care for them, but it's nothing like when with you."

Her words pulled him back, a jolt passing through his body, rejuvenating him when he heard her speak. It washed away the bad taste in his mouth, the sensation of being trumped by his father again, simply because he'd found her first. So he let go of the anxiety, pushing the feelings his father roused in him back into oblivion. She offered something sweeter, something better to fuel him.

"My family is gone," Lucas told her, believing his own words. He didn't share blood with the man, who'd condemned him, abandoned him and his mother. He was a wraith of another life long time ago, and he haunted Lucas for sins he had no choice in committing, like being born.

"But it doesn't matter anymore," he whispered before he rose, straightening to his full height. The sun kissed his skin, deepening his tan. Sweat made his old scars itchy, hung onto his skin uncomfortably.

Skye watched him, knowing he'd pulled back, unwilling to discuss a painful topic with her. The cycle already existed between them. He made her talk, confess to him, and when she wanted something in return, he'd pull away, protecting himself even from her. What was he so afraid of? Why was he so guarded against everything, while she was an open book?

She flipped on her back, placing one arm behind her head for comfort. Her bikini had dried in the sunlight, but her hair was still moist. She pretended to close her eyes, shield them with her hand because of the brightness, when in reality she spied on him through the cracks between her fingers.

Lucas pulled his pants back on, unreal anger seething through every action. Why was he angry? Why was he so helplessly entangled with her? How could she burn him like a lit match with such little effort? He wasn't used to caring, of hurting his feelings for someone else. The women before her had been easy, never tried to look past his good looks and brilliance, never tried to reconcile the pieces. She did. She did all of that, and didn't even consider it to be out of place.

With a swift move, he grabbed his water bottle and sated his thirst that the torrid sun only encouraged. It'd been his plan to leave quickly, hurry back into the protection of the jungle, find one of his safe places to sleep and think. He'd abandoned all plans for her, all thought. He was becoming as weak as the people he despised.

"Are you thirsty?" he asked, even offering his water, the thing his life depended upon, to her. Again his senses screamed at him to wake up, to get a grip, but when she sat up, tilting her head, he realized resistance was futile. He'd gone off the deep end already.

Skye took the water he handed to her, drinking eagerly until she wasn't parched, while his eyes were upon her again. She thanked him when she returned his bottle, wondering whether his scrutiny and bad mood might be over. There was nothing she'd even done to rile him up, so why this change in his demeanor?

Lucas almost reminded her of the wild animals that got zapped by the fence every once in awhile. They'd shy away from human touch, even to the point where helping them was difficult, and even the simplest gestures demanded incredible trust. They needed to be eased into trusting their caretaker, into relying on humans. She could tell he was more than able to stand on his own, so it had to be hard for him to accept others with their weaknesses and differing opinions. Whatever had damaged him so, it had had to involve emotional abuse of some kind.

Refreshed from the water, she stood up as well, realizing how close she was to his body only after she was standing. He held onto the bottle, dangling it with one hand, but his other hand had already snaked around her waist. It held her still, helped her gain her balance faster. The small gesture came naturally, without conscious thought behind it.

Then she realized that he was still shirtless, covered in sweat and the scent of sex. Arousal hit her like a blinding light, leaving her awestruck for a few seconds, before she gathered the little will she had left in her.

"I need a bath," she explained, tilting her head towards the clear water behind them. His touch made her skin feel hot, a love fool's fever burning her. To save her from succumbing again, she slipped from his reach playfully, and glanced at him, before she began ascending into the water.

Lucas watched her move, his focus completely on her. She moved with grace, letting the water embrace her thighs, before she dove in. He actually gasped loudly, squeezing the bottle a bit too tight for the ten seconds she was under water. When her head got back above the surface, his anxiety vanished as quickly as it'd arrived. It was alarming how intensely the thought of her safety being threatened affected him.

The cool water helped ease the discomforting emotions that raged in her body due his closeness. Skye could not believe he had such an effect on her! She'd never experienced arousal so intensely. Even when they'd already consumed their desires twice, she was still hungry for more. It was like a curse, this continued chase for more and more. At this rate she couldn't even walk back home. The thought made her laugh heartily though, and she turned around in the water to see him, her bright smile lighting his face as well.

"Aren't you going to join me?" she dared him, raising an eyebrow at his hesitation. It was insane to invite him in, when the water had just cooled down her overheated body, but she couldn't resist the sight of his mesmerized face.

Lucas looked stranded on dry land as he watched her move in the water with little effort. Skye was an excellent swimmer; her father had taught her right after they'd arrived to Terra Nova, believing her life might one day depend upon it. Lucas had had to learn the hard way. Water was a tightly restricted commodity back in 2149, so swimming lessons weren't exactly available or necessary. Of course by the time he'd arrived to Terra Nova, they taught the basics for survival, but Lucas had skipped some of it in favor of his research. He'd isolated himself in his laboratory, not the least bit interested in the other occupants.

So when his father had cast him out, learning had suddenly become necessary, as his life had depended upon it. Even now, his swimming was somewhat awkward; he didn't enjoy himself in the water, knowing what a treacherous substance it was. But Skye made it seem lenient, harmless. She curled herself to a ball, lifting her knees against her stomach while she floated and waited for his answer. Then she straightened herself again, placing her feet at the bottom to stand up.

She walked up to him, dripping water all over, when she tugged his hand, giving him only enough time to put down the bottle, before she began pulling him after her. Lucas didn't resist despite his mild discomfort. He slid his pants off again, following her into the river. Skye went in first, backing up into the water and when he was waist in, she pushed her legs afloat and wrapped them around him. He took her in gladly, supporting her upper body while he moved further in the water.

The water was cool, but he remained warm. Skye tied her arms around his neck, kissing him lazily once, twice. His lips slid down the side of her neck, the difference in temperature between his lips and her skin sending ripples down his spine. And he forgot all about his dislike for water, concentrated on her charms instead. He loved the feel of her slippery skin, the way she clung onto him with all her hands and legs, and how light she felt.

And when he kissed her chest slowly, moving towards the valley between her breasts, she felt like the whole world was turning into a senseless flow of sound and light. Her breathing rasped by his ear, she held onto him like a drowning woman, trying her best to hold on.

Skye pulled his face back to her lips quickly, kissing him passionately, before she slid her legs down again and stood in front of him, glowing with happiness. Her smirk should've been a warning, should've let him prepare, but he was too caught in the moment to realize that she rammed against him suddenly, upsetting his balance and slamming him beneath the surface.

The splash was enormous, and her smile wicked as she burst into wild laughter at his expense.

Lucas felt the water invade him completely, but he got back on his feet in a few seconds, standing up again, completely soaked. "Son a of bitch!" he cursed at her, his momentarily lack of control eliciting quite a strong response from him.

Skye froze a bit, thrown asunder by his reaction, her smirk gone in an instant. Rage had distorted his features, brought back that uptight scientist, who cared for his work and nothing else. His eyes found her quickly, his eyebrows drawing together in irritation, and he pushed himself into motion to catch her. Skye backed away from him, using the current to her advantage, hoping to avoid retaliation. Alas it was too late for that.

"C'mon, it was just a prank!" she tried to calm him, while eluding his hands that sought to grab her and restrain her.

His intense, rush green eyes stay fixated on her, a low growl stuck in his throat. He moved through the water with frightening speed, and then she slipped, losing her balance while she tried to step back to the rocks. The rough surface grazed her skin, leaving a painful burning behind. She didn't have any time to worry about it though, for Lucas was already on her by the time she could've gotten back up.

He prevented her from moving, his strong arms caging her against the rocky waterline. "That wasn't very nice of you," he told her, his voice low, raw. It made her nervous for awhile, until the creases beside his eyes softened, and he smiled at her again, "You should apologize."

She bit her lip lightly, struggling with keeping laughter inside. "I'm terribly sorry," she apologized with a straight face some seconds later, "I have treated you horribly, and you deserve better."

He could tell she was acting; how it was all a joke to her. Yet some part inside was drunk on her words, her effort to please him, even though she disagreed. She filled everything with laughter, cut the tension apart easily whenever she chose to. It was another piece in this puzzle called Skye. How she actively guided them towards new grounds whenever she found herself in a bind. It was a survival mechanism.

His hair was dripping water over her, the small waves of the stream clashed against them in a dreamy rhythm, and it all seemed unreal. If his life had ended right now, he would've still died happy, complete. His grin deepened, and he wrapped his hands beneath her knees and back, picking her up easily. Then he looked at her mischievously, holding her above the water, before he tossed in her with a splash.

Skye let out a scream of surprise, went under and swam back up again, gasping for air sporadically. She had not seen this coming, and she'd actually swallowed some water. Coughing fiercely, she shot him with a blaming look, feigning offense. "That wasn't nice either!" she exclaimed, eventually smiling all the way, as she couldn't keep up the more than a minute. She'd enjoyed every second of it, her heart was elated.

Something howled in the distance, shadow flew right over them, reminding them both of the reality of the situation. Lucas reacted quickly, peering at the skies, and then signaling her to follow him by extending his hand. "Dry land," he commanded, clearly unwilling to take no for an answer. Skye took his hand, fear clutching her insides. She'd never seen a howler, but she knew exactly what they sounded like.

He dragged her from the water, pulling them both away from sight, closer to the cliffs. He grabbed his clothes on the way, drying his face on his shirt before he grabbed his gun. The adventure was over now, Skye could tell he'd enter survival mode. She also took her clothes from her backpack and pulled her shorts and a shirt on, while Lucas surveyed the skies.

They stood by the walls for an extended moment, waiting for an attack, a crash, a howl. Lucas held his gun tightly, prepared for anything. He waited patiently for other signs of danger, but eventually even he had to admit the howler must've just been passing through. It took him awhile to let it go, keep suspicion from nagging at him, but when she placed her hand over his gun and lowered it little by little, she managed to snap him out of it.

"I think it's safe," Skye said gently, careful not to startle him when she touched him. She didn't like guns much these days, though her father had carried one for as long as she could remember. Nowadays she knew she might one day have several pointed at her, her life hanging by a thread.

"Yes," Lucas agreed, putting the safety back on and placing the gun in its holster. "I suppose it is."

The sun had advanced on its path towards the end of the horizon. Only a few hours of time together remained. Suddenly it made him moony, the final goodbye hung between them. He chose to ignore it.

Lucas brushed his hand through his hair, squeezing the water from them the best he could. He then threw his wet underwear over the rocks, and pulled his dry pants back on, as well as a shirt. The moisture on his skin wet them quickly, but not altogether. Skye stood by his side, restless, unwilling to watch him clothe himself so casually.

She then ventured back towards the waterline, wanting some space, some sense in all of this. She tied her arms around herself, not knowing what else to do with them.

There were no options here. She couldn't follow him into jungle like some lovesick girl, she had obligations and so did he. On top of everything, she'd fallen for someone she hardly knew, and he was intent on making that harder every step of the way. She could tell he was damaged, just the kind of person sane people steered away from.

But the greatest fear now was the unknown. Once she let him go, he'd be gone. If he died alone in jungle there was no way she'd ever know. She'd wait for him until her heart was in shambles, and her feelings would be reduced into nothing but bitterness.

"Why so grim?" he asked, fixing his clothes, still standing by the walls with his equipment. He could sense the difference in her though, could see it in the way she held herself.

"I can't remember the last time I've been this happy," Skye confessed upon realizing lying was futile. He could probably tell if she lied, and demand a straight answer, so why bother? Precious minutes were wasted. "But it's not going to last."

"No, it's not," he admitted very matter-of-factly.

"What are we going to do?" she asked next, trying to blink the emptiness away. Her face was twisted, her jaw clenched shut, everything tense about her.

Lucas didn't let pessimism get a hold of him though. He took a step towards her, and then another, approaching with no haste. "We'll sit down, and have a bite to eat. You'll tell me more about yourself. I'll listen to every word. And when the time comes, we'll say goodbye."

Like it was that easy, no effort required. He managed to calm her though. Skye nodded, fighting internally to recover her good mood. "Sure, I'll buy lunch," she quipped, going for her backpack right away.

She then realized how wet the swimsuit still was, and decided to remove it instead. Her undressing gained his attention, but it didn't stop her. She removed her wet bikini, and pulled on clean underwear before she put her clothes back on, and kneeled before her backpack, picking up the lunch she'd packed herself.

Lucas seated himself by the stream. His dry clothes felt alien, coarse, when she'd been so soft against him. Skye's steps approached him, and he heard a strange cracking sound when she leaned over, tossing him a piece of fruit later. Lucas caught it, recognizing the fruit back from Terra Nova. They grew it on the fields, it was native here, but rare.

"Thank you," he said, after struggling to remember the correct social behavior. He hadn't received anything from anyone in a long time. He hadn't said 'thanks', or 'you're welcome' or even 'I'm sorry'. The jungle demanded no words of gratitude or regret. It was fierce, it tolerated no weakness. It had shaped him more than he'd realized.

Skye liked his consideration though, recognizing how he had to dig through his mind to find the right words. She sat down next to him, playfully bumping against his shoulder with hers. "No, thank _you_ ," she corrected, knowing he'd done more for her than anyone in a long time. He'd made her remember the girl she'd once been: fearless, charming, straight-forward and beautiful.

Lucas brought the fruit to his lips, sucking on its flesh first carefully, then eagerly when its sweet taste spread across his mouth. Some of the juice flowed down his chin, and she wiped it away with a finger, focusing them on her own fruit. Her touch was tender, it moved him.

Once done with eating, he watched as she chucked the empty shell of the fruit into the stream and looked on while it floated away. He followed her example, tossing it aside carelessly.

"What do you do when you're not making calculations?" she asked, eyes set on the golden carvings across the stream. He'd been busy, as almost every section here had carvings in different sizes.

"I live, I hunt, I plan for the future, and I sleep," he explained, understanding himself how empty it sounded. It'd just been like that for a long time now.

An unpleasant memory crossed his mind though; he was unable to bury it right away. When he'd been first exiled, he'd spied on Terra Nova, watched them in their work: An outsider with an ounce of regret. He'd watched his father, forgetting all about his existence. Well, his regret had died in the jungle when the beasts had come, and he'd been forced to fend for himself. And he'd survived alone.

"No wonder," she rolled her eyes at his response, realizing how different this had to be compared to a normal day of his. Lucas raised his eyebrows at her. "No wonder what?" he asked her, an icy tone sneaking into his otherwise slow, soft voice.

"You never do anything for fun," Skye explained, crossing her legs and pressing her hands against her knees, while she rolled her tense shoulders and head. The rocks hadn't exactly been the most comfortable place for lovemaking.

"It isn't an option," Lucas responded, a hint of annoyance. Again, he was reminded of her youth, her positive way of thinking. She didn't know absolutes or Shakespeare's tragedies, obviously. He was about to tell her all about when her constant movement started to bother him.

"Stop it," he requested, instantly getting her to stop. "Stay still," he instructed her next, and moved behind her, placing both legs on her sides. Then he placed his hands on her shoulders and began massaging her tense muscles.

Skye's eyes fluttered at the sensations his dexterous fingers brought when they tended to her pain. It was like he knew when to push and when to apply less pressure. He found all the sore spots, worked on them until they started to loosen up. "Take off your shirt," he said next, whispering right to her ear.

Her hands followed his request without doubt; she pulled her shirt off, giving him better access. He slid the straps of her bra down. They hung loose on her upper arms, barely holding her bra up. She sat up straight though, placed her hands over her chest to keep the underwear in place, as he started to massage the sore muscles on her back. He advanced down from her neck, thumbs following her spine, spreading that uncomfortable ache. Skye pursed her lips more and more as he advanced.

"How does it feel?" he inquired, a knowing smile hidden from her eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing, and enjoyed every minute of it.

"Incredible," she responded without hesitation, closing her eyes and focusing on him.

Lucas focused on her neck though, desire clutching his insides. He brushed her hair off her back with his free hand, leaned in and kissed the nape of her neck lightly. And his hands slid from her back to her front, folding her into his arms. He held her loosely, her head resting against his arm, while his hands were on her stomach, and the rest of her body was set between his legs.

"You stopped," she teased him with a frown, her voice hoarse suddenly. Lucas didn't respond, he had no words, he just held onto her, looking onwards. It was so peaceful here. If he ever came back, and didn't find her here, waiting for him, it would end him right there. That is how he knew he was never coming back.

They were suddenly interrupted by noise. The layout of the cliffs, water and the cavern it flew through made far away noises echo here much louder, but they remained recognizable. Vehicles were approaching in the distance. Skye pushed herself up, standing in a matter of seconds, her shirt by her feet.

There was confusing at first, but then she realized. "Hunter, goddamnit!" she spat, anger fuelling her as she grabbed her shirt and threw it on her back on. She turned to Lucas, who was still puzzled by the recent turn of events.

"I told one of my roommates where I was going in case something happened. Looks like he didn't have as much patience as I thought," she explained bitterly, furious that the precious few hours she had left with him were stolen by her thoughtless friend.

Lucas tensed again and also started to gather his things. "So he has alerted the soldiers, and they're here to bring you home," he sighed poisonously.

Skye nodded stiffly, reality once again caught between them. "You need to go," she told him, worried he would not leave even when he should. Lucas seemed hesitant at first, but as the noises grew louder, she could tell he found no other option available either.

Everything was ending. She felt cold, so she closed the gap between them and kissed him. Her fingers brushed his jaw, her lips felt heavy and tender. Neither of them cried though. It was all there in that kiss, that unspoken wish. Lucas gripped her shoulders forcibly once their lips parted, and then his hands fell.

He took his things, pulled on the harness that supported his holster and left. He didn't turn to look at her again, denying weakness even at such a moment. Skye felt numb, thinking was harder now. However, she was quite sure this was what a broken heart felt like.

* * *

It took them fifteen, twenty minutes to come to the top of the cliffs. She'd circled back by then, and waited for her 'rescue' patiently. It wasn't even dark yet, so she was easy to spot. She saw Hunter peek at her from one of the vehicles; guilty as hell to find her unharmed and pissed. But Commander Taylor's apparently rage took the first prize, as he strode straight to her, barely containing the fury that'd driven him this far.

They stared at one another for awhile, as the soldiers moved around them, mere ants between the two of them. He looked like he had so much to say to her and recognized she knew it all, but had done this anyway. For once, Taylor realized how much Skye reminded him of his own son with her rebellion. He too would always do things his own way, regardless of warnings.

"You're grounded," he finally said, his voice softer than intended. Happiness to see her safe and unharmed bled through his rage.

"I know," Skye responded hands folded across her chest, her body language screaming opposition.

"I expected more from you," he then murmured, rather to himself than her, as if pained by the disappointment she'd given him. It softened her resolve, reminded her of his kindness. Skye let her hands fall, unwilling to fight when she knew his only sin was worrying over her. She was the one who'd played with fire after all.

"I'm sorry, it won't happen again," she said, searching for his eyes with hers. "Trust me; even I know this was stupid."

Of course it was another lie, another gushing wound to this dying body of their relationship. It pained Skye that things had to be this way. One day she would tell him everything, and he would not worry about her anymore. He would not come to her aid, when she needed him the most. It was tragic because he was the only person in her life she could rely on anymore, despite having backstabbed him from the start.

"We'll talk about this at home," he remarked, attempting to sound strict and unmoved, but she knew he wasn't. The commander really went out of his way to understand her, he always had. She didn't know why, but when she'd lost her parents, he'd taken her in like he needed someone like her, a child to look after.

"Yeah, I know," she sighed, relaxing and following him, as he turned and gathered the search party together again.

They didn't talk the whole way home, and when Hunter tried to approach her carefully, she shot him down too, hating herself for this mess.

She hung her head in shame, locked in her room, and remembered the man she'd met by the falls kindly. She did not go back to Snakehead Falls even after she'd regained the Commander's trust, knowing full well he would not be there.

TBC


	3. Loneliness be over

She felt like hyperventilating, screaming until her head exploded and gasping for the air that escaped her so painfully it made her whole body shake. The girl who'd played with fire for three years without being caught was at the end of the road. The net got tighter day after day, forcing her to think of new dangerous ways to supply intelligence to the Sixers, while trying to keep it from permanently harming Terra Nova.

It was all turning into an impossible equation, and Skye was beginning to wonder if she subconsciously wanted to be caught. Any punishment, including the loss of her relationship with Commander Taylor, was better than leading this corroding double life. Josh's father had come so close to catching her this time, even obtaining a blood sample that would've been the definitive proof he needed. Only luck had kept Skye from facing exposure; she'd been able to destroy the blood sample on time.

So why didn't this feel like victory? Why wasn't she happier that she could keep her mother save another day? Was it because she knew the stalemate wouldn't last much longer, that this was all just a sandcastle waiting to be swept away by the stormy sea? Skye admitted it to herself silently, burying her face in her hands. She admitted defeat, the weakness she'd fought for so long. She was only one girl, a simple pawn in this game between Mira and Commander Taylor, and there was no way she was ever turning into a queen by reaching the other end of the chess board.

Hopelessness swept across her, she was this close to breaking and telling her mother everything. For once, she just wanted to be held by someone, who knew about her sins, and be told everything would be okay. Instead her ability for deception became better and better, and the webs she sprung were enough to fool even herself. But just as always, Skye eventually convinced herself to push onwards by imagining her mother on her deathbed, by making herself believe there was no other choice.

She packed her backpack, stuffing it with food and supplies. Tears stung her eyes, nearly clouding her eyesight. A massive headache, incited by her crazy stress levels, forced her to rub her temples until it subsided. She'd lost some weight, as the confrontations between the two sides had become more intense and frequent. She could smell the gasoline; it was waiting for a match to light it, to burn it all down. And Skye was smack in the middle of this no-man's-land they kept sowing mines in. Only she knew how to tread carefully, to creep across them unnoticed.

Her breathing became stilted, like she needed every ounce of her will to keep on going. Tonight was the night, she promised herself, gaining a small portion of her crumbling self-control back. Tonight was the night she'd tell her mother what was really going on, before she broke down for good. Ten long seconds later that painful lump in her throat vanished, giving room for action. She was able to move her stiff feet again. Skye pulled on her clothes and backpack and listened for awhile, making sure her housemates were all asleep, before she snuck out.

The outside air calmed her nerves a bit, and the darkness returned her courage, leading her towards the fence. She listened closely for anything out of order, searched for the security cameras, slipping by them once the first chance arrived. This part was easy, forcing her body to move with haste through the jungle. It required no independent thought, just the experience from all these years and some focus. Yet she banged her knee on a tree at one point, slipping on something in the dark. Curses erupted from her lips, quickly fading to whispers. A tear of pain landed on her cheek, finding its way down. And then she picked herself up again, set into motion, pain subsiding eventually.

Once deeper in the jungle, Skye picked up her flashlight and shone it towards the distance: a secret sequence of light, like the Sixer handshake or something, which she used to contact Mira. Some minutes later a response shone, signaling her that a guide would arrive. Skye didn't mind waiting. All she had was time. If anyone came looking for her tonight, she'd just lie her way out of it. Her knee exhibited some pain from before, and she sat over a tree trunk, nursing it while she waited.

The chill of the night licked her skin, almost like the ghost of a lover by her side. She no longer jumped at such contact hopefully. Hope had died inside her after six months of elusive dreams. She'd learned the most important lesson an adult could. Fairytales were a thing of the past, and whatever he hadn't told her by the rocks that day, would've most likely destroyed them another day. It was better to fade away, than burn.

A guide and his support arrived, their presence introduced by the rustling leaves. Skye thought them quite noisy, but didn't bother to comment on it. Unlike her, this was their territory and they had guns. She recognized one of the men, his dark features painted with yellow war paint. He also supported dinosaur bones in his long hair like trophies. Of course the truth of the technological level at their disposal contradicted their tribal appearance, but this cold war was all about deception. And she couldn't even warn Commander Taylor about it.

They continued onwards together, neither of them speaking a word. There was no need for polite chatter or threats. No one but Mira, Carter and her own mother hardly talked to her during her visits. It was probably wise to leave Skye outside their circles. She was very close to danger each day, and if caught she'd tell the Commander everything. Skye saw no use hiding her dislike for this struggle, or her support for Terra Nova, but had she chosen a different path all those years ago, she might've been able to acquire intelligence for Terra Nova as well when needed.

The silent hike lasted a little while, and they drove the rest of the way with a stolen vehicle. Driving to the Sixer camp saved them some time, but Skye suspected Mira wouldn't be too pleased with her when she realized how little she had to give this time. The fuel spent on the trip would probably be more useful to her than anything Skye had to say today. For once Skye didn't feel guilty over that. Tonight was the night, she repeated silently in her head.

She followed instructions and was guided to a rope lift, once they reached the camp. Skye examined the lift for a moment, moving her good leg within the noose so that it supported her foot, after realizing her other knee was still hurting. She grabbed the rope with both hands next, placing her entire weight on the rope. A couple of Sixers then lifted her to the hidden settlement in the tree lines next. What was usually a fun ride arose no feelings in her tonight. She merely stepped off the lift once up, following the familiar route towards her mother.

Carter waited for her, his face as expressionless as always, leaned against a wooden rail on the bridge she was crossing. He extended his hand a bit once she reached him, and Skye placed the Intel in his hand, gaining a small nod from him in return. He then walked away without as much as a word. Mira must've been busy to send Carter, Skye thought, forgetting all about her acquaintances when she entered the hut her mother was placed inside.

Deborah was sleeping, her shaky body wrapped in a blanket. She seemed peaceful, a small source of joy for Skye, who kneeled before her mother, gently stroking her hair. It would've been cruel to wake her up just to confess to those horrible truths, she realized, torn between what she needed herself and what she wanted for her mother.

Skye could imagine that the worst nightmare of a parent had to be watching idly by as their child fought for their life. So far Deborah hadn't realized the gravity of the situation, and Skye had begged Mira not to tell countless times, but eventually she would find out, whether Skye wanted her to or not. It wasn't the job of a child to protect their parents, now was it?

After long minutes of silence, Skye finally allowed herself to relax. She kneeled next to her mother's bed and just sat there, buried in thoughts. Her mother's calm breathing sounded a bit better this time, not as raspy. Good omens were rare in her life at the moment, so she'd take anything right about now. Skye imagined she'd need to stand up to Mira in awhile, once she'd realize the worth of her recent Intel. Maybe Mira would threaten her mother or tighten the leash around Skye's neck? Fear clutched her again, the wind howling in the distance at her terror.

Then something moved in the distance, rousing Skye from her thoughts. She rose quickly, turning around, swallowing visibly. But the figure emerging from the darkness wasn't friend or foe, it was Lucas.

A jolt passed through her body, the last six months vanished from her mind, and she was at the falls with him again: sad, crazy for contact, in love. There was something primal about the way her body reacted to seeing him, like she was blooming again after a long winter. But Skye didn't smile, because Lucas didn't either. He just stared at her blankly, his eyes betraying his tiredness.

"You've cut your hair," Skye said, speaking the first thing that came on her mind. She also noticed he wore the same clothes and his knuckles were bruised, but otherwise he still looked the same.

His smile came with delay, almost shy at first. "Is that all you have to say to me?" He asked, clearly amused with the low-key reaction their reunion had caused.

Skye realized that a smile crept across her face as well, tears stung her eyes. "Is it done?" she asked, her broken voice betraying the sudden burst of emotions that seeing him had brought forth: joy, disbelief, pain, relief.

Something flickered in his eyes, hesitation she realized, and he turned his gaze from her towards her mother. "Not here," he told her, his body already in motion by the time she could comprehend his words. Lucas brushed by her, taking her hand in his and pulling her in his wake away from her mother. Skye allowed herself to be led, to enjoy the feel of his hand in hers, to inhale his familiar scent. His grip was tight, secure.

And he pulled them onwards, towards a location she didn't know. It was so quiet in the Sixer camp, like no one else was up but them. Skye knew the guards were watching though, they always lurked somewhere invisible. She held onto his hand tighter, thinking someone would alert Mira any minute now and interrupt them. That woman couldn't stand her, and would probably jump at the chance of taking something from her.

They reached a hut and Lucas stopped at its entrance, gently pushing her inside first. He scanned around them for a moment, knowing they probably had curious eyes upon them already. His presence here was the beginning of the end, truly something to talk about. Unfortunately the sheepish faith the Sixers put in his abilities also made them look up to him like a secluded messiah in the woods. He'd been shooing them off his back constantly since he'd arrived to camp a few days ago. At least there was some privacy within his hut.

He followed her inside a moment later, finding her already fast at work, scanning the long rows of paper full of calculations that was all over the walls. Just like that time at the falls she tried to grasp its meaning, to understand what was so important, and failed to do so. Lucas approached her from behind, tying his arms around her, burying his face in the nook of her neck.

"I missed you," he whispered, his voice reduced to a bemused whisper full of raw yearning. He was unwilling to put his obsession with her into more words, knowing words weren't needed, not with her.

She'd consumed his mind, forced him to work faster, to give his everything. In the end his hatred hadn't been the reason he'd pushed himself so hard, it'd been for her, for them. And having her here now was his just rewards, a moment in time he could lapse in his concentration and role as leader, and just be by her side.

Skye leaned backwards into his embrace, having missed his touch greatly. Doubt lingered in the back of her exhausted mind though. She could tell he wasn't here just to see her, no that would've too much in this world where she was constantly treated like a pawn. She hadn't allowed herself to think of them as enemies that day, but now the question had to be asked, whether she wanted to or not. Why was Lucas here? What was he doing for Mira?

He sensed her stiffness in his arms, realizing the camp wasn't exactly a sanctuary for Skye. She came here when asked, did what was told, exchanged a few kind words with her mother and then flew right back into her cage. It'd be difficult to let her guard down, especially when their accommodations didn't offer that much privacy. All he needed was a little while longer, one last step in his plans, and all that would be meaningless. He'd name cities after her, once Terra Nova was his, and his father lied defeated by his feet.

"Is it done?" Skye asked again, trying her hardest to keep her voice from trembling. That horrible feeling would not leave her alone. It was like a premonition of something terrible to come, and it grew and grew within her. She could no longer override her sense with passion, like she'd done that day. So she turned to face him, her expression devoid from tenderness and love, nothing left but hurt.

Lucas wanted to silence her, stop her from asking that. He'd wanted to do anything but talk about it with her, and yet she demanded answers. Not knowing was for her own protection.

He grit his teeth a bit to gain control over his irritation, his smile fading when he admitted, "No, not yet."

Skye stepped backwards, out of his reach, standing her ground in this matter. "Then what are you doing here?" she asked, watching the rest of the kindness he'd shown her crumble away. What was left behind was the same man she'd met once before, so engrossed in his work he hadn't even noticed her at first.

"Same thing you are, my dearest. I'm here for some help," he explained, spreading his arms to point at the calculations all around them. "I need something from you."

Of course he did, Skye thought cynically, disappointment spreading in her body like cancer. Even that day she'd been second fiddle to his work; it had denied the answers to her questions, pushed him into distracting her with intimacy whenever she'd gotten too close.

"I'm not sure Mira would-," she started, but got cut off quickly by him, "Trust me, Skye, she won't mind. Not this time."

He stood in front of her prideful and arrogant, trusting his own words like they were the only truth in the world. Suddenly she wanted to return to the moment before this, when he'd still looked at her like she was the sun at the center of the universe. This Lucas scared her. His passion for his goals was unbelievable. He actually reminded her a bit about Mira, and that was no compliment. His eyes were cold, and so was her heart.

This was not how he'd imagined their reunion. Skye was different somehow, wary of his every move and word. She no longer accepted his reasons, but demanded to look behind the curtain, no matter the cost. "Please don't look at me like that," he asked her, his expression softening again. "I need you."

Hearing the words didn't make it any easier to accept she was being asked to spy by the man she'd confided in; by the man she'd told how much she hated this. All the consideration he'd shown her, all his words to give her strength to go on that day felt like nothing now. Skye was about to say it all aloud, when they were interrupted suddenly.

Mira entered the tent, clearly startled by Skye's presence once she noticed her. Lucas didn't even flinch at the interruption, though he did look annoyed. "Why are you talking to her?" Mira asked with a frown. Her eyes studied Skye with that penetrating glare that froze her insides.

Lucas simply shrugged her comment, like it was nothing. "Well that's none of your business, now is it?" he replied sharply, his tone of voice both commanding and threatening. Mira reacted to it visibly, tearing her eyes from him, her authority and pride wounded. But she made no effort to counter his words, and the tension in the room reached its peak in a charged silence.

Skye listened with wide eyes, the clues opening up a new conclusion she just had not considered before. And once she got there, it was like being punched in the gut: Lucas was the leader, not Mira. For once she couldn't mask her very visceral reaction; it was all over her face, readable also to Lucas.

"I need to see my mother," she said, trying to flee while she still could, but he caught her by her arm, and effectively stopped her.

"Mira, I have business with your girl. Come talk to me afterwards if you have anything," Lucas pointed his harsh words at Mira, but they served the purpose of cutting Skye's escape short as well. He acted differently in front of Mira, hiding any trace of weakness, emotion. He was cold and calculating, and just the sound of his unusually cruel voice managed to hurt her.

Mira was wise enough to bow out of the situation quickly, despite her displease with this turn of events. Lucas was treading on her grounds, Skye had been her spy, and his presence here should've been a better kept secret, she reasoned, but knew she couldn't convince him otherwise.

"Fine then," Mira agreed calmly, "We will talk afterwards."

Lucas' grip grew tighter while Mira exited, like he expected Skye to make a run for it. Oh, he wasn't far off either; Skye was boiling and wanted to be nowhere near him right now, but she knew better than to make a scene in front of Mira, so she waited. As soon as she no longer heard Mira's receding steps, she tore herself from his grip, fury spreading across her beautiful face.

"It's funny how you forgot to mention you're their leader?" she hissed at him, hurt and betrayed. She'd said so many things to him, confided about her mother and how she feared for her. And all that time he'd been the one holding her leash and her mother's life in his hands. He could've ended this hell anytime he wanted to!

Lucas didn't find her anger very attractive. Of course he understood how she felt, but she'd demanded to be told in the first place, while he'd argued that it was for her own best she didn't know. "As I said," he explained while approaching her, "It was for your own good."

"The hell it was!" she actually shouted. All that anger and rage she'd harbored towards Mira was now directed at him, and she couldn't stand it. She closed the gap between them, staring directly into his deceiving green eyes, as she closed a bundle of his shirt within her fist, grabbing him by the collar. "You were using me!" she accused him, setting the spark between them alit like wildfire.

Was it the separation and sudden closeness, or just the way she took charge that made Lucas forget his anger? He didn't know, but that same fascination he'd had for her back then was alive right now, and it commanded him to crush her lips with his. He took her head into his hands, pulling her closer hungrily, and yearning for the one thing he'd denied himself for six long months. His patience ran out completely.

Her initial anger dissolved in that kiss, this fiery promise that the loneliness and desolation she'd felt during his absence would be gone forever. But an echo remained; it scorched her chest, reminding her of all the other things that remained unsaid between them. By the time she pulled away, dizzy from his affections, her lips felt bruised, and Lucas could only look at her with disbelief, wounded by her withdrawal.

Damnit with his success in sidetracking her again! Skye cursed silently and rubbed her lips with her hand, catching her breath."It doesn't change anything, Lucas," she finally spoke, a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. Reality was different from a dream, a love at first sight that had no grounds outside that isolated incident. Outside things were much more complicated, they were more complicated.

She avoided looking at him, at that handsome face demanding for her attention. Those miraculous green eyes had haunted her day and night for so long. She could've recited his sweet words from that day even in sleep. It hurt her to know he was within reach now, and she could not succumb to temptation anymore. She needed to be stronger.

Lucas didn't approach her again. He chose to give her some space, some room for thought. But he did stand in front of her, towering in his height. He was a frightening figure in the light of the lonely lantern set on the table. There was nothing carefree about him now. Actually he reminded her more about a predator, calculating when to strike and when to back down. Lucas chose another tactic to win her trust again.

"Why does she call you Bucket?" he asked softly, thinking of the sickly woman cursed to her bed, the woman Skye had given everything for.

This obviously got her attention and lowered her guard a bit. "You've talked to my mother," she realized, speaking more to her than him. She didn't like it, but knew it had been unavoidable, once Lucas had set foot in this camp again. Skye confronted him, saw how he observed her reaction and tried to act as nonchalant as possible. "It's from when I was a kid," she explained, realizing quickly he wanted the details as well.

With a sigh she started her story, "I adored my father, he was the world to me. It was my dream to be just like him, a soldier. So bucket in head I'd pretend I was one. Silly, isn't it?"

Her expression shifted mid-story, warming up, opening so beautifully. He could see all the love she'd had for her father, and it caused ghost-pain in his own chest. He'd once loved his father as well, but not anymore, not in over ten years.

"I like it, it suits you," he responded, his expression also softening. Yet the argument was far from over. He still had his request.

"Would you have embraced me, if I'd told you…, Bucket?" he asked truthfully, revealing his own insecurity for a moment. It passed by quickly, but she saw it alright, realizing his intention had not been malice, but fear. His throne was lonely and far from his subordinates, even Mira. Lucas didn't belong with the Sixers even though they worked for similar goals, she understood that suddenly.

Little by little her anger slipped away. "No, I would've…," she swallowed the rest of her sentence, locking that thought in a safe within her heart. "I would've never let you so close," Skye then told him, somewhat ashamed of her own narrow view of the world. It wasn't all black and white, good against evil.

"Well I didn't lie," he claimed, his voice stronger and clearer now. "You did bewitch me."

"With my bikini," Skye smirked, laughter finding its way back into her system after a long absence. It caught him as well, peeling the cruel layers he used to control those around him, and revealing that man she loved underneath. "With your incredibly revealing bikini," he confirmed playfully.

Her mind wandered quickly back to her mother though. It pained her that she had to ask him this. "You do know what Mira's been doing can be considered blackmail?" she asked him, hoping he'd put an end to this, save her when she was unable to herself. Lucas shifted a bit, as if uncomfortable with the thought. Then he answered as truthfully as he could, "Yes I know."

It felt like her chest would implode any minute now, but she forced herself to go on. "Will you make me continue this charade? Will you hold her life against me too?" She needed an answer, begged for it all to end now. Skye was literally at her limits, so close to the ledge she could barely move at all.

Lucas recognized her despair, her vulnerability and hugged her suddenly, caressing her back as he promised her, "I would never hurt your mother."

Skye's anxiety came out, and broke into tears right in his embrace, relief washing over her. Lucas held her, knowing she was crying three years' worth of tears right now. He let her, while he contemplated on a proper to approach her with his request. He needed her to do it freely, without question, but knew she had to be tricked.

"Thank you, thank you," she sobbed against him, her weak voice barely registering in his ears. She sounded distant, like a reminiscent of the fierce Skye, who tackled him bravely. A part of him felt distaste over this public display of weakness, and another part reminded him how he'd have done the same for his dear mother, may she rest in peace. He didn't know what to say back, so he just rocked her in his arms, waiting for his opportunity.

"For six months, you were all I could think about whenever I took a break from my work. You consumed me day and night," he suddenly started telling her, holding her petite body against his, feeding off her warmth.

"I knew we would meet again, Bucket. But the only thing between us is the unfinished task." For a moment Lucas' voice shivered, betraying him, alerting her. Then he gathered himself and pulled away to claim eye contact. Her eyes were red from tears, her cheeks wet, but there was sharpness in her gaze.

"Will you help me finish it?" Lucas asked, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Skye was flushed with doubt though; she knew this tune all too well. But it was different from before. Lucas was begging her, not telling her, not blackmailing her. Actually he was offering her rewards and asking something small in return, or so she reasoned.

Skye was suddenly reminded of reality: the calculations around them, his obsession. His request had to do something with them. She frowned, her face revealing pain over his request. She yielded though, wanting to trust him. "How could I possibly help you? I'm not a genius," she replied awkwardly, hoped he would just forget it.

Not Lucas though, no, he had it all planned. He cupped her cheek, wiping away the residue moist from her tears. "I'm almost done, Skye. I need to check my calculations, but it would take forever by hand. You know we can't be together until my work is done." Light dimmed within her soul, that bad feeling taking root again.

"But the computers in Terra Nova, the Eye, can check it in a matter of hours. And everything would be over then, all of this hiding, being separated from the ones you love, even your mother's sickness. Please, Bucket, you need to do this for us," he walked her through it, painted such pictures in her mind, like it was their common goal. He pleaded for her to end her mother's suffering and her own.

It was just some calculations, no big deal. After that all the obstacles would be off their path, they would have all the time in the world. No more spying, no more lying. Skye couldn't lie and say that wasn't everything she wanted.

He saw her walls come crushing down, slid a small device out of his pocket and into her hand, while he kissed her forehead. "Thank you, Bucket," he said, meaning his words.

His lips lingered on her forehead, and when she turned her head to see him, he lowered them to her lips, his stubble grazing them. He kissed her thoroughly, wanting to taste her so bad. And while he knew he needed to let her go again, the thought of leaving her grew more and more painful by the minute, this choking passion gaining a strong foothold in his otherwise rational mind.

There was a conflict within him: his reason demanded that he continued his seclusion until his work was done, but that tight knot inside responded to this rationale with pain. Lucas couldn't recall ever being in love. He'd experienced and sated lust like any other young man, but his eye had been at his goal: destroying his father.

Despite his charm and good looks, Lucas hadn't come across anyone he'd considered worthy of his time and attention before Terra Nova, and his mind had been on other things since his arrival. Over five years of his life had been lost in these woods, chasing the impossible, feeling the jungle erode his sanity little by little.

Skye brought forth that kind side of his character he'd longed to bury, after deeming caring a weakness. No one had cared about him, why should he care about anyone else? Because she filled him with light, because she looked at him like he was the center of the world, and she didn't even ask his name in return. She didn't want to chain him, own him, or tell him what to do. His fears were gone when she was near, his mind at rest.

But this was not the place, not the time.

Lucas let her go, knowing they weren't alone. Mira waited for him, not far off. There were things that needed taking care of, and Skye needed to get back.

He raked her wavy hair with his fingers, this simple gesture calming him. Skye rested her head against his chest, finally feeling like there was someone she could rely on, even if the feeling was fleeting. The device within her fist made her fingers feel numb, as she held onto it, her entire future depending on it.

TBC


	4. The Prodigal Son

It was supposed to be easy: trusting the one you love. Well, turns out it wasn't, not for Skye anyway.

She'd returned in the middle of the night, after meeting with her mother for a moment. Deborah had seen right through her good mood, inquiring whether something special had happened. Almost like she could connect this event to the last time Skye had smiled so genuinely, almost six months ago. They talked to one another for awhile, Skye telling her mother how things were about to change, how she was making sure it'd all turn out for the better. And her mother had listened, wary of her daughter's unusual optimism.

Now the task at hand didn't feel as easy. Sunlight made all her actions vulnerable. Josh was curious over her refusal to spend some time together, curious over the sudden change in her behavior. And she lied to him like always, using their friendship as means to do what was necessary.

She knew everyone thought they had something going on, knew she'd welcomed his company too eagerly recently, when her hope had begun dwindling. Part of her recognized how similar they were, holding onto hope they'd get the person they loved to return to them, even through nefarious means. And all the while, she could feel how theirs wasn't purely a friendship, but how there was a seed, a possibility for something else. She hadn't nurtured it, and even Josh shunned away from it, but it was there nevertheless, as if waiting. Everyone else was banking on this horse to win the race, their opinion like an unspoken command she was supposed to act upon. No wonder she'd looked the other way…

It was so hard to maintain her sunny exterior, when she was anything but that inside. Lucas' presence had awoken her. She remembered what hope felt like, how it rejuvenated your soul. She'd actually woken up this morning with a smile, until she'd recalled the task ahead, the way he'd put so much importance in it. It made her restless, upped her vigilance.

She snuck out of the house at noon, glad that today was her day off the clinic. It gave her the perfect opportunity to take a little detour at the Eye. Everyone had free access there, only reservations were required. Skye was certain the Commander kept some watch over what the Eye was used for, but over time the protocol had become less and less strict, and if there ever was a time to take advantage of that, it was now.

Her steps were a little too quick, tensed. She wanted it to be over with, the doubts to vanish. Reality was better when Lucas was a struggling hero and she a woman fighting for her loved ones, but somewhere in the back of her she recognized this was the lie. The sun blinded her for a moment as she stepped away from the shadow of the house, and she took a moment to adjust to the brightness. It was always hot and fresh in paradise, nothing like the cool, thick smog that pretended to be air back in 2149. The difference still loomed in the back of her mind, whenever she was struck with the beauty of home.

She paced onwards, holding nervously onto her bag, waiting to be caught any minute now. Fortunately she didn't seem to attract any attention though; everyone was so busy with their own business, their good lives here. For once Skye begged for the ability to be invisible, for no one to notice her. This was by far the most dangerous thing she'd done for the Sixers – no, she scolded herself mentally for thinking like that. She was doing it for Lucas, for them, for a chance to actually be together.

Taking another deep breath and a moment to scan her surroundings, she traced her steps backwards a bit and slipped inside the compound that hosted the Eye. So far she hadn't seen anyone, and when she called out, her voice echoed in the abandoned halls, gaining no response. Everything was going fine; she wasn't the usual suspect for something as heinous as being a spy, so her actions did not register to the on-lookers. And as Shannon chased for the spy, he didn't honestly think to look too closely at her, because he wanted to believe his son.

She pressed herself against the door frame, tapping the access code into the panel with her finger. Then she opened the schedule, realizing joyously that there were no reservations for the next few hours. She could slip in and out before being noticed, which was precisely what worried her. Her finger hovered above the screen, a moment of weakness jarring her decision-making, before she gave in and confirmed her reservation. The door opened a moment later, and she pushed herself inside, feeling sluggish and unwilling.

The room was cold, stripped from all elements of interior design. She could see the heart of the Eye on her right, the round machine engulfed in bubbles behind the glass and water. Otherwise the room was a mixture of concrete and natural rock walls that were a remainder of the rock foundation they had quarried in order to build the colony. Making her way to the egg-shaped chair in the middle of the room, she dug up her console from her bag and took Lucas' drive in her hand next.

"Computer," she called out, first weakly then stronger, "Activate."

The room came to life, digital renderings of her console interface filling the air and walls in front of her. Everything had a faint blue glow to it, her skin included, as she bathed in the light of the screen. She held onto Lucas' drive, gripping it a tad too tight, before she plugged it into her console, and everything around her was suddenly full of his equations. They took over the room, floating in their air, drilling into her mind.

"Computer, reconcile," she requested, starting the process.

But waiting was hard, watching his mind challenge her, taunt her, turned everything around. His life's work, the secret between from the first time she'd seen him, was within her grasp. Her curiosity reared its head, leading her into temptation. Now she knew how Eve must've felt in the shadow of the Tree of Wisdom. The palms of her hands were sweating from the heat that her console emitted, her mouth felt dry.

The program ran smoothly, she didn't need to do much herself, just watch it all unfold. Maybe that was why it was so difficult to stay still. The ghost of his touch lingered on her face, his tender smile when he'd lean over her and touch her face with his without kissing her. His scent was hard to recall, but she knew what consisted of. She ran her teeth across her dry lips, feeling how the friction tore at her flesh.

And she straightened herself, closing her eyes as she whispered. "Computer, open secondary action. Search Terra Nova pilgrims: Keyword Lucas."

The program was still running on the background, doing everything he'd wanted and more, but her focus had shifted. The computer riddled through the records, searching and finding things, too many things. The long list expanded until scrolling would've been pointless. Skye reacted with little patience, wiping the sweat from her hands to the side of her pants, before she began typing.

A couple of attempts later she realized there was too much data to go through. She needed to narrow it down, and so she went back to falls, returning the details to her mind. Lucas stood shirtless by the cliffs, making carvings. His smile that made her feel special, wanted. The way he would squeeze her tender flesh in his hands, pleasure running through her.

She sighed in frustration, knowing none of these things answered her questions, which had probably been his point all along. His tactic had been to avert her curious mind, overload her with sensations, emotions. She needed to focus on what he'd said, not done. Skye tried to empty her mind, listen rather than feel. His soft voice murmured to her; it was a river of sound.

Five years in the jungle, she realized. That was before the Sixers, he'd probably arrived long before she had. She entered the new parameters of her search, lowering the hits. It still wasn't enough. Her hands pressed into fists, her nails pressing against the vulnerable flesh of her hand palms. Think, she commanded herself, think.

The second pilgrimage, she then remembered, chiding herself for not thinking of this earlier. She'd go through every name on that list of arrivals if she had to, but she'd find him. Decisive, she raised her voice at the computer, to get it to read her as clearly as possible. "Computer list arrivals on the second pilgrimage. Search for keyword, Lucas."

Hits became fewer now; she narrowed everything but exact hits, believing he wouldn't have lied to her about his name. He hadn't had reason to lie back then, not when he'd chosen to omit details. Yet the thought wouldn't leave her alone either; how perhaps she didn't know him at all.

Five hits remained on the screen, all profiles that fit with the keyword. Skye stood up slowly, placing the console on the seat, as she approached the images hovering in the air. The first one had a picture, the keyword fit with something in his background. Skye recognized him though, tossing the result straight to the trash bin. It was the third result that got her attention: a profile without a picture, just the name hovering a few feet from her: Lucas Taylor.

She tried to access it, a sudden rush of panic overcoming all sense, but the computer wouldn't let her. It kept repeating an error message 'Profile deleted'. Her expression shifted a little at first, her calmness eroding little by little, and then it broke into a distressed frown, anger seeping through her pores like a disease that took over her. She knew then and there, she just knew it was him. Everything made sense with this, everything but her own naivety.

"Computer," she spoke with a trembling voice, trying her best to contain her heightened emotions, "Show me Commander Nathaniel Taylor."

The Commander's profile opened up like a charm, public information showing up even with her security clearance. She'd have thought he was a more private person, but realized eventually that the profile hadn't been altered in years. His family still listed a son, Lucas Taylor.

She tried to access the profile again, hitting the open profile button again and again. The error remained the same 'profile deleted'. Skye hit her hand through the projection in rage, actually bursting into a primal scream at the information in front of her, like she could someone cleanse the tension from her soul. Her voice died before anything was cleansed, leaving behind a hoarse imitation.

It didn't change anything, the truth remained the same. He was Taylor's son, his enemy, and under different circumstances he would've something akin to a foster brother to her. A wave of sickness passed through her, but not because it changed anything between them, no, it was because she realized just how much worse her betrayal was.

She'd run into the Commander's estranged son, who worked with his enemies to bring him down, and she'd fallen in love with him. She'd helped his own son to damage his home, kill his people. As if it wasn't bad enough that Skye had come to care for the Commander, she'd also come to care for Lucas. Suddenly she didn't know if she could take another curveball like this. Her head argued that this couldn't be all.

"Computer, terminate search," she said, snapping herself out of self-pity. "Show reconciliation. Analyze, create a digital model."

She fumbled backwards once the model began to take shape, a cluster of messy lines at first, slowly gaining purpose. Then she realized what she was looking at: it was the fracture, the gate that connected them to 2149. Something flowed through it, a whirlwind connected to the calculations still fluttering in the air.

Were they attempting to hack into the gate, take it under their control? No, it made little sense. Skye shook her head, forcing her focus on the model, when all she could think of really was his name, Lucas Taylor. It rolled off her tongue so easily; she accepted it as truth without even seeing a picture.

Skye didn't bother to resist her urges anymore, as she knew she needed to know everything in order to make her decisions. She would not lead Terra Nova to its ruin, not even for him. She twisted and turned, unable to stand straight while the computer worked its magic, making sense of her lover's brilliant mind. It was what she'd wanted to do since first meeting with him, gaze inside his thoughts: that secluded world of numbers and harsh reality he lived in, where she was the most wondrous thing he'd ever seen. She wanted to understand what the hell could be so important that he would hurt his own father.

Then she remembered how he'd lied to her that he had no family. It froze her for awhile, her confused mind linking the two men inevitably together. They each pretended the other didn't exist, yet fought to remind one another of their existence, refusing to be forgotten. If not, what else could've been the point of Lucas' carvings? Did he not leave them as his epitome, for his father to find?

For the first time she realized she was caught in the middle of something she didn't even fully understand. Was it even about Terra Nova, or something that had happened between father and son and driven them apart? Skye couldn't imagine either of them harming the one they loved, but her mind was quick to judge, to place prejudice.

"What is it?" she asked herself aloud; weary of the secrets and mysteries, angry that she was too stupid to figure it out. "What do you want Lucas?"

Skye circled the projection, studying the model carefully. Her steps were light, she was in no rush. She commanded herself to think, to focus for once in her life. Lucas had told her this was the endgame, that it would solve all of their problems. How? He'd said it would be the end of hiding, being separated, but there was no end to that as long as she was Terra Nova, and he cooped up with the Sixers in the jungle. And the status quo wouldn't change as long as the Sixers were without mean to attack and take control of Terra Nova.

And it really was as simple as that, she realized, stopping with a jerk. She looked at the model intently, awestruck by the simplicity of his plan, the results of his intelligence. He was going to open the gate both ways, to even the score. Whoever had sent the Sixers in the first place probably had enough money to hire armies to march in and take control. But what stopped them was the fact that it was a one way ticket. Terra Nova had everything the future didn't: resources, extinct species, and most importantly hope. He was making the portal go both ways to rally the troops, swoop in and destroy his father's dream.

Against her expectations, Skye realized she was crying again. These tears were silent, her anxiety unwilling to expel with them. No, these were the tears of a girl who'd met a boy and had only now realized how he was about to end everything she cared about. Her dreams slipped away through her fingers, those lovely images of him and her, together and timeless, they all crumbled. What she had left was bitterness.

Everything had changed so suddenly, so violently. This disappointment was becoming a curse, rooted right in her heart, and it spread. She let the computer run its calculations and check the results of his work, but she didn't pay much attention anymore. Her console laid by the chair, forgotten, as she held herself, hugging one knee and pressing her face against it. Time moved by slowly, each step of reconciliation dragging onwards like a diseased animal, waiting for death.

Some hours later, she bolted off her seat as soon as the computer finished checking the data and confirmed, as suspected, his success. Under other circumstances she might've been happy for him, joined him in his elation. But this victory was smeared in blood, lost in the choir of agony. Did he even care? Did he care about the people, who'd made Terra Nova their home and brought their children here for a better tomorrow?

Skye yanked the drive from her console, stuffing it into her pocket, glad that the mocking equations in the air faded as she did this. The room became dim again; the twilight embraced her, hiding her heavy heart as she sneaked away, hoping to god no one would come up to her right now.

The outside air was fresh and lush, but the sun was violent in its shine. It felt too much after everything. Without really making a conscious choice Skye dragged herself towards the Commander's office, still hoping to make sense of this chaos. She had never felt this cold inside, not even when her father died. At least she'd seen that coming, been able to brace herself. Not with Lucas, no with him the truth came from the blind spot, a knife to the side.

She climbed the wooden stairs, the guards posted by them greeting her formally. Yeah, she'd come up to him like this all the time: To play chess by the balcony, to talk about things, to be his daughter really. So why hadn't he told her about Lucas? Why had he kept it all inside?

Skye entered the hut, searching the cool office with her eyes and enjoying the feel of the air conditioning. Just a few minutes outside had already brought sweat on her skin, or was it perhaps cold sweat, roused by her current predicament? But Skye soon realized that the Commander wasn't there to hear her pleads and questions, to ease her troubled heart like he usually did so effortlessly.

It was Lieutenant Washington that greeted her with a nod of acknowledgement, comfortably seated over the Commander's chair, almost as if it were her own. Alicia Washington was one of Taylor's oldest subordinates, his right hand woman for nearly a decade. Seeing her relit hope in Skye, as she knew Washington would have the knowledge she needed all the same, and perhaps she'd be more willing to share it too.

Washington was clad in her usual black tank top, hair tied to a neat ponytail and eyes full of sharpness. She was an admirable figure, always stood tall and proud and followed orders without question. Someone like her could be considered a straight arrow, but Skye had suspected that Taylor and Washington's relationship went beyond their roles in the military, that they were bonded by something stronger. Clearly they shared affection, but it was up to debate whether it was romantic in nature or not. Skye hadn't wanted to put it in categories, although she'd often thought Washington was the closest person to Taylor in Terra Nova. Perhaps she'd been wrong, considering he had a son…

"The Commander's not here, Skye," Washington eventually told her in her usual formal manner, having observed the silent girl by the door a few minutes, patiently waiting for her to initiate conversation. She could see something was wrong, yet hated to get in the middle of it, knew that Taylor would want to deal with it himself.

For a moment Skye wondered if she would've turned out like that too had things gone another way: capable, assertive and fiercely loyal. But Skye couldn't even be loyal to her own damn heart, now could she?

"Actually, it might be better I talk to you," Skye responded quietly, feeling the life pour from her body. She was a ghost of herself, but gladly Washington didn't know her well enough to notice the difference. Her hands kept clutching the shoulder strap of her bag almost possessively, as if to ground her, keep her from falling off the edge of the map. Too bad she was deep in uncharted waters already…

The request seemed to make Washington a bit worried though, Skye noticed. Washington rose from the chair, leaving her console on the table, and she walked up to Skye almost immediately after. As usual, Washington seemed strict and unyielding even when she was being friendly. She held onto her belt with her hands, keeping her gun close, standing in form.

"What is it Skye?" she asked, no signs of alarm in her voice, though her eyes were alert.

"I...," Skye began, her voice trailing off almost immediately. She gathered herself for another try quickly, "I overheard something today, something I wanted to ask about."

Her grip on her bag was still tight, like she was waiting for the world to crumble beneath her, and needed something solid to hold onto. Washington's dead calm didn't help her in keeping her demons in check either.

"The commander… he has a son, doesn't he?" When the words finally rolled off her tongue, she hadn't gotten any more used to the thought of Lucas as Taylor's son. They felt like a mismatch in almost every sense, except their rugged beauty. One was a soldier, tough and unforgiving, the other a brilliant mind, sensitive underneath.

Washington gritted her teeth, trying to keep her face from showing emotion, but it was clear the question roused feelings in her, strong feelings. "Where did you hear that?" she asked almost mechanically, needing to force the question out into the open.

Skye hesitated, not having thought that far. "It was…," she started, unable to finish her thought, when Washington already filled in the gap for her, "Shannon, wasn't it?" The disdain in the Lieutenant's voice was clear. Josh's father must've not been on her good side. Skye settled to nod shyly, as if she hadn't wanted to give away her source. It was better this way though, Washington's suspicions were plausible.

"Why wouldn't he tell me?" Skye asked, melancholy seeping through her voice. She wasn't talking about one Taylor over the other, having realized they had both wanted to hide the truth from her. Ironically both father and son had at least one common interest.

However, hearing her question made Washington uncomfortable too, only she figured Skye was talking about Taylor, not his son.

"Listen Skye, it's very difficult," Washington tried to explain, seeing how this information had affected Skye. Skye allowed Washington to see through the cracks, the maelstrom that she carried inside, because she knew Washington would attribute it all to Taylor, not his son. It was sad how even when she was an emotional wreck, she was still manipulating others.

Washington struggled with the words, the boundaries. But she knew it'd be better to give Skye something, prepare her before she asked Taylor herself. This was the last thing the Commander needed right now, especially since the new discoveries of Lucas' carvings had become more and more frequent as of late. It wasn't Washington's place to explain, yet she wanted to, if only to spare the Commander. He'd been nothing but good to Skye, and he didn't deserve this kind of anxiety for having some secrets.

"The Commander's son is missing. It's very painful for him to know his son is somewhere out there, unreachable," she tried to explain.

"Where is he? Where's his son?" Skye asked, feigning ignorance, a frustrated frown decorating her delicate face. She rolled her eyes, waiting for an answer she already knew. He's in my heart, and he's never leaving.

"I haven't seen Lucas Taylor in five years and neither has his father. He came to Terra Nova soon after his father, but things did not work out as intended. It crushed Taylor," Washington tensed as she told the story, her lips pursing a bit more the further along she got. Skye could feel her irritation with Lucas, that complete lack of respect. And she understood why, she honestly did. Lucas had hurt the Commander, and Washington was nothing if not loyal to her commanding officer.

"What is he like?" Skye inquired, craving for any piece of information, any clue. She could not connect the kind person she'd me, a passionate, loving man to Lucas Taylor, whose name was spoken with such disappointment. She needed to make the connection real, to understand it.

Washington actually glanced at her feet, unsure of what words to pick. She knew he was troubled, traumatized and angry. She also knew he was dangerous, out of control and that he was one of the most brilliant minds of their time. Washington couldn't recall all the times Taylor had spoken of his son with his voice tainted equally by pride and regret. She didn't have words for that – never had. It was a side of Taylor only shown to a few.

"He's a genius," Washington said, thinking back on the positive. Not the rash way he'd rush into fights, raise his voice or withdraw from company like a sullen child. "A bit of loner, an academically trained mind that had trouble understanding us regular folk," she continued, actually summoning something resembling a smile. It lit her face, made her seem younger.

"But they could never be in the same room without fighting. One always repelled the other, words spun out of control. No one else could enrage the Commander quite like his son," she recalled, having witnessed some of their spats.

She knew, of course, that Lucas had plotted to steal Terra Nova from Taylor, that he'd run into the jungle when given no other option. Secretly the turn of events had made her rejoice, for she'd honestly thought it would bring peace to Taylor. In reality, it had only hurt him more. And the carvings in the jungle had slowly devoured Taylor as whole, a constant reminder of how Lucas was still breathing, continuing to hate his father and everything he'd accomplished.

"What happened between them?" Skye asked, fearing her heart would burst with just a little more pressure.

But Washington didn't wish to discuss it further, as she found their conversation drifting to dangerous grounds. It wasn't her job to guess, even if she had some pretty good guesses on what had twisted the brat prince so.

"You'll need to talk to Taylor. I can't say any more," she apologized, genuinely sorry for Skye, seeing how visibly shaken the girl was. She didn't shift from her position though, not even to touch her a bit, to offer solace.

"I see," Skye whispered softly, a faint smile visiting her face a bit, "Thanks."

Washington didn't acknowledge the thank you, as it only made her feel worse about sharing as much as she had. "Talk to him, you'll understand," she simply said, feeling it was best way to encourage Skye, give her a push in the right direction. Perhaps Skye would succeed where she had not: in getting Taylor to let go finally.

Skye turned around and walked away, her hasty steps quickly dissolving into the noise of the colony after she'd vanished from sight.

Washington wondered whether she should've said something more, but the whole situation had felt wildly inappropriate. She'd need to talk to Shannon and have him guard these secrets a bit better. The Commander had chosen to keep Lucas' existence known to only the people he trusted (and the few, who'd lived here at the time of Lucas' disappearance, as they publically called it). It wasn't Shannon's place to start spreading rumors like this, especially considering the consequences.

Skye kept going despite everything once she got out of the office. She nearly flew down the stairs, didn't stop for a word with Maddy, who greeted her from afar, didn't walk up to Hunter when she saw him. There was a burning inside her, it choked the air from her lungs and dried her thoughts, until she was walking in a feverish haze.

When she finally made it to her room, she slammed the door closed, threw her backpack against the wall and just let her feet fall beneath her, dropping to the ground. Pain grounded her during her breakdown, but she felt like she needed more.

Lucas fucking Taylor, she thought, shouting in her thoughts, while nothing but an agonized whimper escaped her clasped lips.

TBC


	5. Welcome to the Family

The jungle was loud; it throbbed under his skin, beckoning him. He moved through the brushwood almost without sound, accustomed to the tricky terrain that was eager to reveal his position to every living creature in the near-by area. His blood was pumping with excitement, distraction. It was all leading to a kill, the thrill was almost as good as the pleasure she gave him, just almost.

Lucas gripped the handle his knife, careful not to shine its blade when he withdrew it. The creature hadn't noticed him yet, and should he have his way, it wouldn't until it was too late. His brain was silent, everything rejected but his most primitive desires, the animal side. He stalked his prey patiently, something he was rarely able to do with other things, but he knew the laws of the jungle by now; he had the scars to remind him of the times he'd been too hasty.

How had that sensitive boy his father had exiled into the woods five years ago become this way? He'd enjoyed civilization once, basking in the comforts his intelligence had provided him with, until his father had dragged him with him to this hell. The heat, the sun, the wildlife – Everything was chaos in this paradise, living and breathing. He'd hated it, desired the dead world he'd left behind and its predictable safety. But the jungle had shed his skin, forged him anew. That soft boy was gone, replaced by a man hardened by the extreme conditions.

He no longer had any intention of returning to 2149. Not in the middle of the slumbering, who knew nothing of survival of the fittest. The weak were crushed, and the future would've been a different place if it weren't for the weakness of people, their desire for constant peace. It was peace that had torn the world apart little by little.

Then he heard her, soft thumps behind him, and he bit his lip to quench an irritated sigh, as his prey was also alerted by the sound and chose to shift, move closer to the protection of its herd. Lucas shot Mira with a blaming look, not bothering to explain how her carelessness had cost him his opportunity. He figured it was pretty evident – no reason to waste his breath.

Mira observed him with worry though, squatted a little further from him, something clearly on her mind. Her long hair was gathered on little braids that followed the shape of her skull and tied together on a long bundle. Her attire was dirty, her cheeks flushed from the exercise and heat, her breathing thick. But she had cleaned her face from war paint, given up the accessories she'd made from her trophies, and her expression was softer.

"You're different," she finally said, choosing to voice her suspicions.

Lucas didn't care about her observations, he cared about the hunt. But it was obvious now that Mira had lured her here in order to talk in private. She sometimes suffered from the misconception that they ran a democracy, or that she had any say in the decision he made. He understood it was frustrating to let power slip through one's fingers, and that she was the only one with the courage to stand against him, but quite frankly she wasn't paid to do that.

"I'm not sure what you would like me to respond," Lucas mumbled, sheathing his knife in disappointment. He breathed in deep, hoping that he could signal her to leave by ignoring her, but she never did. Mira was the one person amongst his troops, who had to keep pushing him.

"You always treat us like some nuisance standing in your way. But lately you've been on an unusually good mood. You even help out back at the camp these days," she explained, her voice shifting to a regular conversational tone. Mira only acted like queen bitch when she needed to, Lucas knew as much. She'd shaped herself into the fierce Amazon in the wild, who rode into his father's city fearlessly, but she returned she was herself again: just a poor woman doing what she had to for her kid.

He didn't want to be friends with her though, never had and never would. But one had to adjust on the razor's edge, even if it meant tolerating the likes of her. Besides he understood how the conditions here weathered you, and whenever his work didn't need his time and attention, he liked doing something with his hands: building, carrying, and hunting. The Sixers survived with what they could get their hands on, just like Lucas had. He didn't have particular affection for them, but he didn't hate them either.

Lucas turned to meet her eyes, trying to push his frustration for her aside and silence her with as little conversation as possible. He laid his hands on his knees, squatted in the bushes, hidden from prying eyes.

"I have my reasons to be a good mood recently, Mira," he told her, as if speaking to a child. Lucas hated explaining himself; it was nothing but a waste of time. "All my plans are coming to an end, and with it, hopefully, the need to consort with the likes of you."

There was actual cheerfulness in him when he spoke to her; however, his words were like the thorns of a rose, sharp and prickling. Mira paid no heed though; she was quite used to his poisonous attitude and arrogance. The thing was that she realized he wasn't acting like a complete bastard these past few months, like something had mellowed him. It puzzled her, filled her with anxiety.

"It's not that," she told him, conviction shining through her confident voice. "It's because of her."

With one word she managed to eradicate his false cheerfulness, and bring about the dangerous, short-tempered Lucas Taylor she knew. Lucas responded physically to her words, his body tensing right down to the chords on his neck. The difference was visible, his eyes shone dangerously.

"I would pick my next words wisely if I were you," Lucas settled to note, his voice colder than before. Mira watched as he wiped the drops of perspiration that dangled in his hair to the sleeve of his shirt calmly, choosing not to stare her down. His words hung in the air ominously though, she knew she'd hit him at a soft spot.

Of course he hadn't said a word about it, how he'd met her the first time. But it was obvious he treated her differently. Some months ago Lucas had actually asked about her mother, requested that they treat her better. Mira had considered he might have had a soft spot for the suffering woman, she'd seen him pay attention to her when he'd come by the camp before, but seeing him with her yesterday had proved that theory false.

The Lucas Taylor she knew wasn't a soft-speaking man. He didn't plead from anyone for anything. The way he'd spoken to Skye though, it had been different, genuine – Like he had shown his true colors to her and only her.

"I'm worried," she confessed, leaning against a tree trunk behind her for some support. He wasn't fooled by her relaxed stance though, he could tell she had a weapon at an arm's length, that she was ready to act should he alert her in any way.

"She's not one of us, and yet you trust her with everything," Mira then continued, observing how he reacted to her words this time.

But he really didn't. Lucas knew deep inside that the equation of their relationship didn't quite balance out, that he needed to keep things from her, and introduce them little by little. He had to protect her, his fragile little sister, so that the world would not run her down the same way it had done to him. It made him a bastard, of course, but the price for truth would've been too high.

"Trust is earned," Lucas hissed, inching closer to her and abandoning his post in the process. "Do you think you've earned mine?"

The question was unsettling to Mira, who'd rallied the Sixers together after things had started going south in Terra Nova quickly after their arrival. She'd risen to the occasion, taken leadership when no one else would. She'd withstood Lucas' company, his insults and mood swings. She'd stood against Taylor, carving out victories from whatever she was given. And yet he trusted that girl more?

"She'll betray you, Lucas," she said, hostility gone from her voice and only genuine worry left. Lucas was quite surprised to recognize it there, but it was clear. She was older than he was, a maternal leader masking as a tyrant, while he expected fear rather than love from his subordinates. She'd been seeking for something to penetrate his walls for years now.

"Don't worry Mira," Lucas smirked, letting go of the irritation she'd made him feel. For once he attempted to brush away the direct way she'd just insulted him to his face, and respond with kindness instead. "You'll be with your bastard child soon enough, I promise," he then finished. In Mira's book, it was pretty much the closest she'd get to a compliment or a caring word with him.

But it didn't calm her mind, or reassure anything. He avoided her inquiries, approached Skye Tate with care. Mira saw the hint of weakness generally as a good thing; it proved he wasn't the sociopath she'd once taken him for. However, since the object of his newly-found affection was Skye Tate, it raised problems.

Mira gave her the cold shoulder she gave everyone, but she didn't like using a young girl's love for her mother to her advantage. She'd hoped for something better to come along, free her from having to rely on Skye. These past three years had been so rough on that girl; Mira feared she'd collapse under the pressure. Now she was certain the girl would break, and her weakness would drive Lucas crazy.

"She will never hurt Terra Nova," Mira responded after a moment of silence, hoping to get him to see the light, to realize he was blinded.

Lucas didn't respond he simply turned around slowly, scanning their surroundings before he stood up. It was like he was refusing to listen. Then she recognized his blank expression, the kind that was always followed by boiling rage, an eruption of emotion. Mira stood up with un-steady feet, hoping for the best and fearing for the worst, which is exactly what she got.

Lucas spun into motion, darting at her, and tossing her down on the ground. She fell with a thump, pain flooding her senses, forcing her to struggle with controlling her body. But then she already felt him slam his knee against her chest, the blow releasing the air from her lungs, alongside with a cry. He used his knee to press his weight on top of her, pin her down, as his knife found its way to her throat. A crazy gleam in his eyes, pain reflected through-out, he stared at her.

"We are not friends," he told her, his weight pressing at her lungs, inflicting pain all over. "So the next time you think you need to get involved in my business, and I tell you to shut the fuck up, you will listen."

The cold blade hovered by her neck, not really touching her. Mira waited, her eyes pouring into his, pleading silently. Lucas held the knife tightly, and the blade nudged a little closer, and then a little closer. It grazed her skin, her eyes opening wide with shock, but he pulled the knife away before he did any real damage.

"Oh look," Lucas laughed with cruel amusement, "I suppose I am a bit different. My hand feels less stable nowadays," he said, pushing himself off her.

She groaned in pain, fighting the urge to lunge right back at him and tear his arrogant lips off his face. The lesson was learned though, she wouldn't attempt to talk to him again, not until after the girl would break his heart. Then she would make him listen, and listen well. After all, he was the reason she still had a chance to see her child again.

Lucas didn't bother to look at her squirming in the ground; he was too busy staring at his own hand, which was shaking. It wasn't a good sign for him to lose his temper over something this insignificant, even he knew that. He thought about his self-control when it came to her, how it was easier to overlook things, and how it was the stark opposite of his hyper-responsiveness now.

He'd been calmer for a long while, actually ever since he became the devil of Eden five years ago, but now with all these people around him, things were actually worse. It was harder to keep together, keep that spark from lighting. Lucas had grown accustomed to loneliness, it had healed him. But in order to be with her, he needed to be among people. And his intensity scared him as well sometimes.

He didn't apologize though, even if there was a knot of regret buried deep inside him. Apologizes had been the boy's way, always apologizing, always trying his best to make things right. Well, he couldn't make things right, so he'd do the opposite.

"Let's not talk about her again," he told her, giving an order rather than a suggestion. She could hear from his voice that he was a bit distraught. However, she knew he'd never admit it. The observation cooled down her a bit, strengthened her conclusion that Lucas was changed. She didn't know what his affection for the girl had mutated him into – it was something for the better though. She could tell ruthlessness wasn't easy for him as it'd been before.

Mira pushed herself back on her feet, gathering the remnants of her pride and self-worth. She didn't feel sad, not even humiliated, though it would've been easy to hate him. She just pitied him.

"Fine," she agreed softly, burying her failure.

"Alright," he responded, regaining that calmness that had alerted her in the first place.

"We will burn down Eden soon enough," his whisper was almost sad, as if the ending of this chapter he'd longed for meant the ending of something he actually cherished.

* * *

Then he took his gun in hand, removing the safety, and set out to continue their hunt. Mira followed him warily, steeling her resolve, thinking it was all for her child. She'd take on anything to hold her again.

She was still curled up, face buried into her knees, leaning against the wall by her bed. Eventually the tears had dried as the cocktail of mixed emotions had become less potent, and she'd been able to stop thinking of his name. In silence it wasn't all as overwhelming, just a little sad how father and son could spin so out of control, lost in mindless conflict.

She didn't know enough to pass judgment; all she had were inklings, hunches on the cause of this. Skye sighed aloud as lifted her head and looked at the mess she'd made with her room. It didn't matter who was right and who was wrong, when the fight tore everything else around them apart. It didn't matter that she loved him, when he was asking her to destroy everything.

Skye doubted there was any room for reason here. One way or another she'd take a side, hurt someone. Her heart was divided between what was right by everyone else, and what was right by them.

Steps resounded in the kitchen, signaling her that someone had come home. Skye hoped they would not take interest in her, that they would not come to see her. But the steps approached her anyway, no matter how unwanted they were. And when the visitor reached the door, Skye turned her head to look. It was Tasha, she could tell by her slim silhouette through the sliding door. As usual she knocked first to be polite, before she pushed the door open and became a witness in this sordid case.

Tasha stared at the mess, eyes widening the further she got in the room. Skye was usually so neat; she'd never seen such disorder anywhere Skye went. Disbelief took over her, as she ventured into the room, searching for her friend, becoming more and more horrified by this proof of Skye's anger.

"Skye?" Tasha called her, rising to her toes before she realized Skye was behind the behind, staring blankly at the wall. Worry overcame her quickly; she stepped back a bit and closed the door behind her. Then Tasha circled around the bed, reaching Skye's side. "Has something happened? Are you ok?" she inquired and kneeled before her friend, seeking for eye contact.

Skye didn't really seem to notice her until now, as she found Tasha's face on the same level with her eyes. She let go off the complicated emotional burden, focusing on her friend for a change. Tasha had kneeled, her mini-shorts complimenting her beautiful legs and her top hanging loosely over her dark skin. Her expression was full of warmth, when she recognized Skye was reacting to her presence. Tasha then leaned closer and took her wordlessly into her arms. The touch was kind, it released the tension Skye had been under and she closed her eyes, sinking into this comfort.

"Was it Josh? Is he being a jerk again?" Tasha asked, her short-sightedness actually eliciting a tired burst of laughter out of Skye, who was glad she could bury her desperate expression against Tasha's shoulder. "No," Skye responded with strange amusement. "Trust me, I'd never cry over him."

It was because he lacked the ability to make her silent with just one touch. He didn't speak to her like she was the reason he breathed. Being without him did not give her this kind of despair. So no, Josh could never hold her heart, when Lucas had already snatched it away six months ago.

Skye pulled away, wiping off the traces of her tears to the back of her hand while Tasha looked at her with concern, trying to find reason with her friend's behavior. Skye coughed a bit, frowning as she prepared to think of something, only the lies wouldn't emerge from the depths of her mind this time.

"It doesn't matter," she eventually said, shaking her head and rolling her eyes like it was all over nothing.

"You know," Tasha tilted her head, responding to the underlying pain in Skye's voice, "No man is worth your tears."

And her words hit closer than Skye would've liked. She hurried to deny her friend's conclusions, flustered by how Tasha assumed it was over a man. "A guy? Me? Sheesh, who would I even meet here? Nah, I'm just upset over useless shit. It's nothing serious." She copied her own carefree tone the best she could, played it like her crisis was something you could fix with a band-aid.

Tasha wasn't quite convinced, but she nodded in approval, realizing Skye wasn't willing to talk about it.

"We were heading out to eat with Max's dad. I actually came by to invite you too," she said, still wary. The suggestion would've normally delighted Skye, because she liked Max's dad and it was one of the closest thing to a family dinner she had the pleasure of experiencing in Terra Nova, but this time the timing was off. Lucas was waiting for her.

"Sorry, I can't," she said with regret, "I have something else lined up. I can't wriggle out of it right now."

"Fine. But you find me if you want to talk, Skye," Tasha was being very adamant about this. In the few years they'd lived together, they had shared many things, painful and joyful alike. Speaking with Tasha was sure-fire way to get her mind back on track, to ignore her own suspicions. Tasha knew about her flings, mistakes and successes, but she knew nothing of the world she lived in as a spy, and she would've not understood if Skye had told her about Lucas.

"I promise," Skye nodded, smiling as Tasha rose to her feet and leaned in to place a kiss on her forehead.

"You take care!" she exclaimed, walking out of Skye's room, probably thinking how even Skye Tate was sometimes a complete mess over insignificant details. Skye didn't correct that false belief. She knew this conversation would eventually continue, and Tasha would extort an explanation out of her. For the first time Skye actually wondered whether she'd be here to suffer through it.

When she heard the outside door close behind Tasha some minutes later, she finally forced herself to move. She picked up the things she'd thrown, placed them back to their places, straightening her sheets, cleaning whatever she could. The simple action helped, it cleared her mind from everything unnecessary.

It was no use hiding here, hurting herself with these frantic thoughts and doubts. She needed to stay strong, remember the strength that had pulled her through the past three years. She would go to him, pry the answers she needed. Once she knew the family secrets, she'd patch things if it was still possible. Otherwise their crazy little family-unit would self-destruct, taking Terra Nova down with it.

She changed clothes, prepared for another hike into the wild. But when the time came to pack the drive, she pushed it into the depths of her drawer, hid it from herself and him. And she knew how much it meant to him, how passionate he was over his work, which was why she couldn't bring it with her. Skye didn't trust herself around him, not when he shook her world with just one touch. If he pleaded, if he begged, she would give in eventually.

But this really was the ultimate test, returning to him empty handed, seeing what he would do. Skye hated herself for it, for knowing there was no other way.


	6. Caught, Entangled, Torn

It was more difficult to slip by their watch during the day than it was during the night. Skye found more patrols than usual surveying the perimeter, and the towers had more men too, eyeing the skies, searching for signals.

Somewhere by the tree line her ride was waiting, getting annoyed with just sitting. He probably feared Lucas enough to stick to his place; she wondered and walked past the guards with a smile, grabbing an apple from one of the booths at the market. She tossed payment to the clerk seconds later, sinking her teeth into the juicy flesh of the fruit and munching on it.

Skye sat down for a moment, supposedly enjoying the sunshine and her day off. In reality she was checking out her options, suspicious of everyone and everything that went on around her. Somewhere out here there was a chance she was missing: a hole in their security and awareness. She'd exploit it, see her mother and talk to Lucas, make him listen. Of course all of that was easier said than done, and she'd already wasted more time here than she would've liked.

She tossed the carcass of the apple over her shoulder, sucking on the last bits of the fruit while she contemplated further. The search for the spy was reaching its culmination, the net tightening day after day. She realized she hadn't really thought things that far, she'd just went along for the ride, sometimes actually finding enjoyment in the thrill and chase of her lifestyle. Most days it'd been the black hole sucking all life from her, but every once in awhile she'd let herself enjoy it. That day by the falls came to mind when she thought of such times, and the pleasant memories softened her smile, made it authentic.

For a lying bastard, Lucas Taylor was certainly someone who'd caught her attention and managed to hold onto it more than a passing moment. Now she had to slander him in her mind, distance herself from those raging emotions just to get by. If it was just them, it might've been different, but she had to carry so much more. It wasn't fair really.

Skye realized she hadn't really eaten anything today and considered grabbing another apple to sate her hunger, when she caught Josh walking by her, clad in dirty overalls. The hunger slipped her mind that instant and she shot up back on her feet, rushing after him. "Josh!" she called him playfully, and got him to turn around with a frown.

"Hey Skye," he said, showing some signs of surprise at seeing her. "I thought you'd be busy." She caught the trace of hurt in his voice and contributed it to the way she'd been acting lately. Skye shrugged it off though, uninterested in this fact.

"My plans changed," she smiled, trying to sound a bit apologetic. She brushed her hair behind her ear, pointing her eyes at his overalls and raising her eyebrows a bit. "Trying out a new look?"

Josh seemed to get over his initial moroseness and he actually smiled back at her already. "We're digging a new trench outside. Figured I'd help since no one was around to hang out with," he explained, clearly expecting extra credit for being a good soldier. Skye thought it was cute, but expected no less from anyone else, so it didn't really impress her.

"Can I help?" she inquired with amusement, hands behind her back and her body language giving all the signs for availability. One of the things that made her such a great liar was the way she pushed everything into physical form: her body reacted to her words and it gave the extra edge to convince others. Now she responded to his movement like an energetic, enthusiastic girl would.

"Sure, grab some clothes and a shuffle and I'll save a spot for you at the transport," Josh nodded, seemingly happy that she'd apparently overcome her earlier foul mood. Skye's smile widened, but not for the reasons he assumed, and she took off immediately to the direction he was pointing her at with a wink.

Twenty minutes later she was outside the gates with a legitimate alibi, listening to Josh's recent experiences at the colony, thinking she'd heard it all. Sure, he was a few years behind her and fresh, so it shouldn't have bothered her, but it did nevertheless. Skye would've been grateful to have siblings, parents, a normal life without complications and constant fear of exposure. Not so surprisingly Josh's complains seemed so small to her, so insignificant. But she nodded, threw in a comment or two to make it seem like she was listening, and ran her eyes through the layout of their work area.

The area was loosely guarded, a fact she found quite foolish, considering how she knew Sixers often hid in the tree line, observing what went on in Terra Nova. In her current plight though, she considered it a blessing. She'd barely dug anything yet, just followed Josh's example and played along. Gladly, Josh wasn't the type that paid much attention to what she did, especially when he was talking himself.

Skye spotted the foreman heading towards the opposite edge of their dig, and she stopped what she was doing, turning to Josh innocently. "I'd better check with the foreman, to make sure he noticed I tagged along and all," she noted, like the action was a pain. Josh didn't notice her excuse, as she'd suspected; he just continued his work, joking, "Let's hope he doesn't assign you to something else now that he has extra help."

And with that she slipped away, her steps feeling light in the wake of her success. She made sure no one was looking when she took a sharp turn and headed for the jungle, abandoning her shovel. Once she was out of sight, she wriggled out of her overalls, suddenly overcome with insecurity. She tried to rake her entangled hair straight, to wipe the perspiration from her cheeks and neck. And when she realized just how stupid that was, the tension in her stomach calmed a bit. It wasn't like she got to make a good impression this time.

It took her ten minutes to reach the rendezvous point by foot. As suspected her contact waited with a galled expression, hands folded across his chest. Clearly he was mired with his position as her protector, for she sensed he might've otherwise said a thing or two about her delay.

"Sorry," she mumbled to him, sliding her satchel off her shoulder and into her hand, as she climbed into the vehicle. Her driver didn't say anything though, just stepped inside as well and started the engine, quick to get them away. The drive was quiet; neither spoke nor saw the need to do so. Instead Skye fidgeted with the leash of her satchel, adjusting it to be longer and shorter again and again her mind struggling with the task ahead.

Eventually the ride was over, and she could see the camp appear into view behind the trees. They masked it, kept as little on the ground-level as possible, so that animals wouldn't wander into it. Everything was storaged in the tree houses, and the watchers moved soundlessly in the trees, always on the look-out for danger. There was kids in the Sixer camp as well, some born during their exile, and some who'd come along from Terra Nova. Before everything, some Sixers had actually adopted kids and then brought them here, as crazy as that was.

Skye thanked her driver for the ride, snagging her satchel and stepping outside as quickly as possible, wishing to end their time together. She fumbled a bit while stepping out of the car, but managed to stay on her feet. A sudden breath of fresh air brushed her hair to her face, forcing her to shake them off her eyes. No one seemed to pay attention to her however. Skye felt a rush of relief, for she was usually eyed critically and guided no matter where she went. This time it was like no one had really expected her.

She began walking towards the rope lift, expecting to be questioned or stopped before she could make it. It didn't happen. She got there just fine, and was pulled up by two Sixers, who apparently had the current shift. Even they didn't pay much attention to her, rather focusing on their game of chess. She noticed the pieces were carved by hand and had the most curious design. Neither of the men looked older than twenty, too young to be hired as infiltrators to paradise, but she supposed Lucas's employers had their means of recruiting.

"Where's Lucas?" she asked warily, holding onto her bag nervously. One of the men gave her a sideways glance, sighing, "Hasn't come back yet. We'll tell him where you are when he does."

The information struck her like an electric current running across her bloodstream. Suddenly she felt lonely, a dull pain in her heart ached after him. "I see," she responded, dispirited. "I'll go see my mom then."

The short distance between her and her mother's hut was longer than usual. She tried to focus on everything around her, the everyday life of the camp and its inhabitants, yet found everything meaningless. Why would've he left when he'd been waiting for her return so eagerly? Was it a blind spot in her plans? Would she have to wait for him for hours and risk exposure when they'd realize she had vanished from the dig site?

She noticed her mother was awake when she reached the entrance of the hut, and the realization washed the bad taste from her mouth. Skye approached her with an elated heart, her joy catching onto her mother when she too noticed she had a visitor. "Skye!" Deborah exclaimed, holding out her hands to embrace her daughter.

Skye moved next to her, kneeling by the bed and allowing herself to be held by her mother. It was different from the hug Tasha had given her, better somehow, like her mother withheld the true magic to unlock her hurt and confusion. It was meant to be a quick embrace, yet it turned into a drowning girl holding onto a branch, a connection to dry land. Her mother noticed the abrupt shift in her, the way she shook, and didn't let go, recognizing the agony in her daughter.

"Oh mom," she whispered, biting her lip, until she broke skin. A flood of blood filled her mouth, getting to realize just how desperately she was clinging onto her mother. Skye let go in shame, sucking on her lower lip that began to swell with pain almost immediately. She was sure that the guilt was all over her face, but she didn't care anymore. Perhaps it really was time.

"Skye what is wrong?" her mother asked, petting her hair with her fragile hand. Skye noted that she looked healthier than a few weeks ago, but she was still weak, so goddamn weak. There were days when she wondered whether she'd find her mother passed away some time, and if it'd be a relief somewhere deep down.

"I need to tell you something," Skye confessed, taking her mother's free hand onto hers and kissing it. She breathed a heavy breath, held onto the knowledge a little while longer, as her mother waited patiently for her to gather her thoughts. There was no judgment in Deborah Tate's eyes, just sadness, like she had expected this day.

"I've let you down, mom. I've lied, and it has to end," Skye explained, peering into her mother's eyes, hoping they would not turn her down in hate: that maybe truth was cleansing, that it purified her sins and finally brought her peace. If her mother could forgive her, maybe Lucas could too?

"I made a deal with Mira. It was the only way she would take you, give you the medicine." Deep down Deborah had anticipated something like this, had recognized that kindness had its price even in Paradise. She'd wanted to believe that the people caring for her were misunderstood, even as her reason had argued against it.

"I've been spying for them, giving info on Terra Nova and what goes on there. But I can't do it anymore, mom. I just can't. It's too much," Skye's words started to cling onto another, her voice low and tensed. Deborah could hear her despair; recognize how Skye was trying to tell her something others should not hear. It scared her.

Skye noticed the way her mother's hand fell from her face, how she struggled with the knowledge, how the light died in her eyes. It made the words so much harder to say. She clutched her mother's hand inside hers, hoping that her warmth would bring life back into her mother too.

"I can't keep lying, harming others just so you can be ok again. Because I don't think you're going to be ok," her voice trailed off, tears making their way into her eyes. They strung like hell, she tried to keep them back. It didn't fair to have to tell your own mother this, but she had to.

"Skye," her mother called her, seeing how Skye averted her teary eyes, unable to say what she wanted to her face. "Skye Alexandria Tate," she said again, this time with more presence, strength. It snapped Skye back, made her focus as the first tears ran across her cheeks.

"You're not doing this anymore," Deborah said, bringing her own hand on top of hers. There was no hurt or malice in her, nothing to indicate she would've taken Skye's words the wrong way. "I've been sick for a long time now, Bucket. It's not something you can fix, and you don't need to try anymore," she then continued, hoping to absolve the burden Skye had carried unbeknownst to her.

"I want you to go and never look back. I want you to tell Commander Taylor everything and leave me here," she then pleaded, a mother above all, even her own fear of death. She'd been in its grasp for a long time now, trying to fight for her baby. It just became clear to her that fighting wasn't an option if her every breath was paid with another life.

And Skye couldn't say anything to object, because it was what she'd wanted to hear for years now, secretly longing for her mother to just let her go. It made her selfish, a terrible child and human being, but the weight was so heavy. Despair had taken her so many nights. Only one thing had pierced that shroud of fear and loathing – Lucas.

"I've let you down," Skye whispered, squeezing her mother's hands, thinking how she couldn't even feel her heartbeat, even with her bulky veins pumping right beneath her fingers. "I can't leave you." She shook her head for effect, decisive eyes piercing her mother's.

But Deborah looked back at her kindly, smiling. "You're a good person Skye. I'm proud of you. But your future matters, not mine. You need to let go and be your own person."

The smell of her sickness was suddenly piercing, a sharp sensation. It made her head spin, forced her eyes shut. She coughed aggressively, realizing that Skye wrapped her arms around her mother, lifting her to a sitting position to help her breathing. The episode ended as quickly as it had started, but it only helped steel her resolve.

"Put me down, Bucket, and go," Deborah demanded with a hint of annoyance in her voice. It was so different from the way she usually talked to Skye, it actually reached her. Skye withdrew after helping her mother back on her back, yet she was unable to go. She didn't cry anymore, worry had overtaken her.

"I said go," Deborah repeated, an unheard of fierceness creeping into her voice. It was like a knife between them, twisting. Skye remembered this all too well, the fever was rising again and in its wake came the hallucinations and personality shifts. It was getting worse.

"I'll get you some medicine," Skye said, reaching for a bowl of water on the table, but her hand got slapped away with her mother, the small table the bowl rested on almost knocked over. Skye actually jumped a bit at the sudden contact, falling on her behind, eyes focused on her mother. Deborah's eyes were red, her skin yellow and feverish.

Skye saw her feet move, push beneath the blanket so that it shifted. Her mother had been a runner once; she'd had strong legs that carried her for great distances. One of the first things they'd done together as a family here had been to go hiking on one of the safer areas with other new pilgrims. Now her legs were bony, weak. The disease had eaten at her, taking even her ability to walk. And she was trying so hard now, just so she could push her away.

The silence between them made Skye understand finally. Her mother was serious, ravaged by this disease was no life worth living. She was done playing brave for her daughter, so she was showing Skye the truth. Once she saw it she could no longer deny it: their cure was only delaying the inevitable. Skye sat a few meters away from her mother, staring at the woman on her side, who was breathing with labor.

"I love you," she said, and dried her tears on her shirt, watching as her mother responded to the words with a waning smile. "Then leave me," she said, pulling the blank back over her feet. Deborah closed her eyes after that, waiting for sleep or death, whichever would arrive first.

Skye didn't move from her spot for several minutes. She tried to grasp everything that had just happened, the words that had been exchanged, and the glimpse of her mother's true condition. Skye had prepared herself for the worst so many times that now it didn't feel as terrifying anymore. Actually, she wondered if there was any chance for a happy ending.

It was when she realized her mother was back asleep, exhausted by her visit, when she finally stood up and walked away. Numbness followed those steps, her tears were dry. She didn't know what she was supposed to feel, yet she knew it wasn't this. Relief was probably the least important thing on that list, and she felt it whole heartedly.

Walking back to the men by the rope elevator, she fixed her appearance again, and asked them, "Where is Lucas?"

Again they focused on their game rather than her. A moment later one responded, "There's no telling when he'll be back."

Skye snorted with disbelief, a faint sting of cynicism making its way to her. "Fine then. Tell them I'll wait in his hut," she said, striding off while she still could. Maybe her anger was irrational, but she was tired of being abandoned by everyone she cared about.

Remembering the route from last night, she followed her memory and made her way to his hut. It was dark there, his notes hung all over the walls, reminding her of her betrayal to come. She felt an urge to tear them to pieces pass through her and then just exhaustion.

Noticing his bed in the corner, Skye moved towards it and slumped herself over the covers. His scent was all over them, it teased her, sparked the memories she kept closest. She wrapped his blanket on her, squeezing his pillow into her arms, and burying her head in it. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep.

* * *

"You should show that bump to someone," Mira muttered tensely, adjusting the strap of her gun while she eyed Lucas discreetly. All the others kept a small distance from them, as if sensing how riled up their fearless leader was. She barely noticed the difference, albeit had to admit she'd seen him on a better mood as well.

Lucas touched the dark red cut on his forehead again, this time more tentatively, knowing how much it would sting at contact. He couldn't quite stop touching it though, the ache it spread across his forehead made it difficult to ignore. It didn't bleed anymore, thankfully, but it would probably leave a distinct bruise. He'd been sloppy, stupid even for letting his thoughts wonder like that.

"I think I'll manage," he responded, eyes cast on their surroundings.

Mira found his grumpiness almost endearing, but denied such thoughts. There was nothing endearing about Lucas Taylor, a man willing to betray his own father even when he'd been handed the keys to paradise. Lucas was a predator at heart.

"You could have internal bleeding," she clarified her worry, stealing a glance at some of the others, who'd accompanied them to the hunt. No one else dared to speak to him this way. "And then we'd have no way home."

Lucas smiled at the thought lazily, having known there was a reason she insisted on accompanying him almost everywhere. Had their employer asked her to look after him, did they think he needed a babysitter? "At least it would be a peaceful way to die," he remarked, leaving her uncertain whether he actually carried such a death wish in his heart.

Mira signaled the others to drag the prey off and leave them. Lucas was already positioning himself on the lift, beckoning them to pull him up. He'd retire like always, sink into his dark thoughts and keep from others. She would see the light in his hut in the darkest night during the shift change and wonder silently if her own child would turn like that with her gone, so jaded and scarred.

"Fine then," she snorted, picking up something from her belt. It was a knife, smeared in blood. Mira wiped the blood away the best she could to the side of her pants before handing it over. Lucas took the object, finding small comfort in having it back. He must've dropped it when the creature had attacked, ramming against him. He hadn't intended to play bait, yet it had happened, leaving his life in the hands of the Sixers. And they'd come for him without hesitation, or expecting thanks. It was more than he'd expected.

Their eyes met for a moment, an understanding suddenly building between them. It was strange to be able to grasp one's meaning in full without words, almost surreal. Lucas broke off the eye contact a moment later, tugging at the rope. They began pulling him up almost instantly.

"Have them send her to me when she arrives," Lucas instructed calmly, still dangling the knife in his hand, while they pulled him up.

Mira thought about giving him a fake salute and realized she wasn't ready to tempt fate and his terrible mood swings, so she just walked away with a strangely pleased smirk. She was beginning to understand this beast called Lucas Taylor. And maybe he was beginning to understand the human race.

Lucas didn't think much when his feet finally touched the wooden surface of the platform up high. He nodded at the men, who eyed him nervously, and put the knife away calmly. He thought about checking up on Skye's mother, but realized he was unwilling to sit there and be evaluated. She'd found his interest in her daughter all too endearing the last time, and he saw no reason to be the one to tell her about them. He wasn't exactly what you would call a dream son-in-law.

"Taylor," one of the men called him and he turned his head with little curiosity. "The girl's waiting in your quarters," the guard them told him, causing him to snap awake right into this moment from his thoughts.

He gave back a half-hearted nod, quickening his paste as he hurried to his hut, fearing rather irrationally he might miss her. He'd lost all sense of time during their hunt, and the bang in the head hadn't helped with that either. Lucas wondered how she'd been able to pass the time, whether she'd been scared, and if she was safe. He was almost too protective of her, his adventurous Skye. Many times he'd wondered how he would keep his sanity if they were ever allowed to be together in a normal, open relationship. He might just have to close her inside a birdcage to make sure she'd stay still.

Lucas stepped inside his hut, making room for daylight to enter along his side. Disappointment washed through him, as he didn't see anything at first. The hut appeared untouched. Then he realized the dark shape slung over his bed, and begun a slow approach. She lay so still, sleeping peacefully. Lucas squatted next to her, observing her face and the expression of sheer exhaustion. He would let her sleep safely once they got back to 2149. There were no monsters there, nothing to interrupt her well-deserved rest. He brushed his hand against her wavy hair, forgetting the throbbing pain in his forehead for a moment.

Just looking at her exhilarated him, gave meaning to the long separation they had suffered through. "Wake up, Bucket," he called to her, enjoying how she pushed into his touch when she shifted in her sleep. His dirty hand cupped her cheek, leaving a tarnished taint there, a trace of blood and soil.

She turned on her back, unwilling to wake, to come to him. Lucas pulled his hand away to shake her awake, cruel desire telling to do the opposite, to claim her. He had all the chances later though; he didn't need to rush into things anymore. So his voice grew more distant, demanding, "Skye, wake up."

She woke up when he gripped her shoulder tightly, the sudden pressure pushing through her dreamless state. An annoyed frown decorated her face for a moment. Then she realized where she was and with whom. Skye stood up quickly, panicked eyes searching for a source of light. How could've she fallen asleep! How long had she slept?

Lucas observed her, relaxed and amused by her reflexes. She assumed the worst, ready to jump into battle, to fight the current. Soon she wouldn't have to live like that anymore.

Then her eyes were upon his, and she froze with shame for just a few seconds, before she started to make her way out of bed, her dire circumstances forcing her to deny the attraction.

"How long did I sleep?" she asked more from herself than him, stepping on her feet and starting towards the door, only to have him catch her hand.

"There's no hurry," Lucas told her, caressing the palm of her hand with his thumb. Her arm remained rigid though, she was at maximum distance, unwilling to come close. He took notice of this, wanted to contribute it to the delirium of sleep, yet knew she was wide awake.

"You don't understand. The guard was tight, so I went OTG with a worker crew. I was supposed to slip out before any of the crew noticed. If I'm gone for hours, they'll know something is wrong," she tried to explain, panic and fear seeping into her voice, no matter how calm she tried to keep it. Realizing she needed reassurance, Lucas let go of her hand and watched her walk to the entrance to witness the sunlight outside. He stood up himself shortly after.

Skye exhaled in relief upon realizing that the sun had barely moved. She still had time to get back. She turned to tell him that, finding him standing right behind her, focused on her. He had that same fascinated look as always, nothing else coming close to capturing his interest but her. Her skin felt hot suddenly, it yearned for his touch, for his reassurance. Words got stuck in her throat, until she realized what a nasty bruise he had on his forehead.

Her surprise became visible; Lucas saw it fade into worry, fear. He kissed her before she could ask him about it, pouring his emotions into that simple contact. Skye pushed into him aggressively, her hands tying around his neck, those petite fingers caressing his scars and the sensitive skin there. Her lips were full, inviting, but the skin was broken and she flinched when he tried to suck on her lower lip. She retreated with a wince, pain reminding her where she should've been.

Skye lingered near him though, unable to pull away from completely, even if she didn't touch him anymore. Lucas' stare remained fixated: powerful, passionate. She moved her head to look at his forehead again, how it was decorated by a swollen cut. "Some sort of komodo dragon," he explained, running his fingers through her hair.

He wore fingerless gloves and she found herself thinking how roguish he looked with the sleeves of his shirt rolled over his elbows and his dirty trousers. Handsome, but more like a diamond in the rough, whereas Skye herself was soft, clean and casual. The contrast between their appearances wasn't lost on him either; Lucas yearned for the chance to clean himself for good, get some new clothes and a shave. His stubble was attractive, but it irritated her skin whenever they touched.

He chuckled to himself, feeling the hammering headache that had come out of nowhere dissolve in her presence. She killed his pain, every kind of pain.

"Did you do it? Did it work?" he finally asked, incapable of holding himself back anymore. His pride needed this, this one success. It would wipe away the sacrifices and bring forth a new future for them both.

Skye swallowed away the dryness in her throat that almost made her lose her voice. "I reconciled your calculations," she told him, averting her eyes in guilt while his fingertips moved to her cheek. "You were right, they're sound."

His smile was bright, so pure. She hadn't seen such joy in anyone in a long time, almost childish elation. It deepened the void within her. She'd be the one to take this from him.

"Thank you, Bucket," he said, framing her face with both hands. He kissed her forehead gently, closing his eyes, thinking it was all over now. Whatever doubts he might've had vanished. "I knew I could trust you."

Skye enjoyed the feel of his lips, bemused by his presence, his love. "Lucas, I…," she tried to tell him, her voice diminished to a weak whisper. Even that was silenced when he pulled her in for another kiss, something deeper and stronger. His lips crushed hers, his tongue finding her flavor. She was all teeth and skin, the distant taste of apple lingering in her breath.

Lucas chuckled again, carefree as he tied his arms around her. "We'll need to get going, prep everything while there's still time," he explained, envisioning the future with hope for once.

"We?" she questioned, waking from her lustful slumber. The emotions crashed against her, a cold shower. She actually moved her hand between their bodies, locked her feet still when he blinked at her reservation and attempted to pull her close again. She needed distance to remain sober, to soldier through this.

"We," he stressed the word, thinking her tension was due to thinking they'd be apart again. "I'm not leaving you. I want you to see what you helped me accomplish. The calculations, they will make the portal go both ways."

She struggled against him again, pulling away from his arms. "I know Lucas, I figured it out," she then revealed in agony, crossing her arms across her chest.

Lucas seemed puzzled for a second, and then he admitted something, feeling a little bothered, "Forgive me, you're smarter than I give you credit for." He actually apologized, that tender tone of his causing further outrage in her. It was a silent rebellion building in her, feelings she couldn't express, not yet. She hoped he would piece it together, save her from having to say it.

"I won't go through without you, Bucket. We'll even take your mother; she can finally get the treatment she needs in 2149," he continued; only this time there was a hint of coercion. For a split second he reminded her of Mira, dangling her mother's treatment in her face, even when she knew he was doing it for them.

"We can't!" she snapped, her voice actually coming out stronger and louder than intended.

It made him frown, the tension was rising and his ability to grasp her weird behavior was diminishing. He didn't understand this at all. He'd planned it so well, so why was she opposing him? The tension bled into his expression, his face hardened, his eyes grew colder. He tilted his head as he approached her, but Skye withdrew as he advanced.

"I didn't bring the hard drive," she finally confessed with a heavy heart, hating herself that moment.

The furrows on his forehead thickened, his body language become more muddled, but clearly taut. Lucas could feel the pressure rising, the headache on his forehead becoming intense again. Mira's warning echoing in his mind, a broken record of his failure.

"Tell me what happened," he asked her with perfect, frightening clarity.

Skye stopped her retreat, knowing there was nowhere to hide. The shame grew thin, as did her self-accusations while she searched for the words. She found her anger, the harsh truth of her harrowing experience.

"I found you," she professed, "I know who you are."

TBC


	7. Lessons Learned

Everything made sense again suddenly: Her reluctance to touch him, her shifty glances, and her strained body language. Lucas actually felt relief; it was a crazy rush across his body. He smirked, thinking it was alright. She knew who he was, what she was to him: Their special bond, how she was the chosen child of his father, the one meant to replace him.

"I didn't think he'd leave anything to find," he told her, knowing how his father had sought to bury his disappointments in life. After all, they had never talked about his mother, not since her death, not unless it'd been Lucas arguing, demanding to be heard. Nathaniel had always shut him down, attempting to control Ayani's memory, to keep it from hurting him.

And Lucas had had to scream to be heard, to drift to paths his father would not accept to get his answers, the attention he craved for – All because Nathaniel Taylor was weak underneath, unable to confront his own mistakes, to accept the responsibility of his own decisions. So he'd made a void where his wife had once been, a black hole that sucked the light around it.

There were no photographs of his mother, at least none that Lucas knew about. His father hadn't worn his wedding ring for years now; he'd destroy the little property she had. And because she had been buried with an empty coffin, there had been no place for Lucas to talk to her either.

Lucas had honestly thought that his father would've erased the computers and never mentioned him or their blissful family hell to anyone. He'd seen it once, and he knew his father didn't love him like he had loved his mother, so it would've been easier to erase the disappointment. Yet somehow Skye had dug up the hints, followed them down the rabbit hole, and found him.

His green eyes poured into her, alive and full of emotion. She didn't look so fragile anymore, not with that fire in her. She was pissed off and perhaps with good reason. Lucas didn't know how much she knew about her foster family, but he assumed they'd told her very little, perhaps just a crude list of his sins.

"Look at me, Bucket," he asked, trading tension for kindness. He realized she'd shifted her eyes from him again. He sought for that contact, aware of how difficult it was for her to lie to him when she couldn't trick him with intimacy.

Skye complied with his request slowly, an eerie calmness existing between them. It was a charade that was waiting for an ending. "Do you think I have his eyes?" he asked, brutally honest. She could tell he wanted her to say no, could read it in the way he surveyed her. It was a test she almost wanted to fail.

She reared her head at him, uncomfortable in her position. "It changes everything Lucas," she told him with a grave voice, barely recognizing it herself.

Angered by her answer, or the lack of a proper one, he grabbed her forearms, holding her still a bit too tight, as he spoke to her. "Not what you feel! Not that," he told her, barely containing himself. His fingers dug into her skin, his barbed words into her mind.

She knew now what Washington had meant when she had described Lucas to her. There was a duality in him: kindness and sensitivity that was lost under his quickly flaring temper and inability to understand others.

Skye rolled her shoulders violently, breaking free from his grasp. "And that's all that matters to you?" she questioned with a vulnerable voice, throwing her hands in frustration. "Everything else can go to shit as long as you're good?"

Lucas tried to hold still, to reach her, to reassure her, but with every breath, with every sentence, she just ended up twisting his every effort. "I don't have the luxury of empathy," he muttered at her, barely hiding his disgust.

He understood it now, the meaning of it all. She'd come to him like a siren, rekindling his hopes, talking her way to his heart. And now she was rejecting him, his dreams for them. She was rejecting him for Terra Nova, for his murdering son of a bitch father.

"Don't talk about it like its some luxury!" she yelled back at him, her rage igniting for good now. "You really expect me to help you in mass murder! In some crazy fantasy of getting back at your father?" Skye shook her head without understanding, everything felt wrong.

"No!" Lucas objected, raising his finger at her, the muscles in his arm tensing dangerously. His face was void from love, from compassion.

"Make no mistake, Skye, I will kill him, because that is all he deserves." His voice thundered with authority and pain.

"What did he do to you to make you hate him so much?" she asked, unable to grasp how anyone could hate their own father. To her a father was something precious, something important. She'd never feel as safe as she had in her father's arms. To her the mere thought of hating her father would be worse than death.

An almost sadistic expression spread across Lucas' face. He took pleasure from telling her, from driving a wedge between her and his father. "He killed my mother."

Skye actually fumbled backwards a bit as if in shock from his revelation. Disbelief was all over her face. She shook her head, refusing to believe it. "You're lying," she claimed attempting to convince her rather than him. Somehow she knew he believed in his own words though, it was in the way Lucas stood quietly and observed her breakdown with sadness.

"It's alright," he said, his anger subsiding for a moment, "He's been like a father to you, but I have to set it straight. I care for you too much." Lucas wanted to pull her close, muse into her ear, comfort her as she experienced the same overwhelming loss he had faced alone over a decade ago. He didn't though, he saw the warning in her eyes when he was about to move.

"I don't care," she claimed, numbness spreading into her. "You'll have to find another way to get back at him. I won't let you open that portal."

There it was again – that silent voice inside. He hadn't missed it one bit. It was cruel, unforgiving. It nagged at his self-control, yearning to be released. The woman he loved stood before him defiantly, openly admitting to betraying his trust. The blinding rage should've come by now, but it was a shadow of its usual self. He suspected it was because of her. Of course it wasn't completely removed, but less potent anyway.

"I asked you to do a simple thing," Lucas said, trying to clear his thoughts, "A small favor to ensure our future together."

How could he talk so softly even as his voice was harsh and heartbreaking?

"And you did it, you succeeded brilliantly, like I wanted you to," he admired her for a second, desire touching him deep inside.

"But then you chose to fuck it up. You chose to let me down. How can you do that to someone you supposedly love?" He lectured to her with a distant tone, as he already sought to rise above the petty emotions that messed everything up. And he questioned her; he questioned everything she'd told him.

"It's quite easy Lucas," she responded with spite, not backing down with this. "You're no better than Mira. You're just too messed up to realize it."

He recoiled as if she'd slapped him across his face. Skye's open hostility was everything he hadn't expected. He'd wanted to expose his father, tell her the truth for once. But instead she was attacking him, ignoring his words and intentions. "You think I'm crazy?" he asked her.

She jumped in fright next, as his arm flew across the air, sweeping the table clean from the equipment placed on it. There was a crack and some rattle with broken pieces of equipment tumbling on the floor, followed by an unnerving silence. Her eyes snapped right back at him, outraged by this display of his. Lucas stared back, pleased by her reaction, knowing he had her full attention.

"I'll tell him everything: about us, about the portal. I don't care anymore. Let him hate me, let them all hate me," Skye threatened calmly, hoping for a reaction, something to justify her cruelty.

He just chuckled at her, his malicious laughter vibrating across his body. Lucas bit his lip gently, ran his tongue over his lips. "Do you think our father will forgive you, little sister?" he asked her next.

It really threw her overboard, yanked her chain. "I'm not your fucking sister!" she shouted, rejecting the thought with both her body and soul.

He didn't feel offended by it though, how could he? She was acting like a child in tantrum, overcome by emotions. It was no wonder he could not open her eyes to his father's lies, they had dug deep into her, refusing to let go.

Everything was falling apart. The love she'd cherished, the empowerment of feeling like you belonged to some, body and soul – it was slipping away. Every minute, every new attack in this argument gave her less reason to stay and risk her future here. Her mother had begged her to go despite knowing it would mean death to her. Lucas was begging her to destroy lives, knowing it meant the loss of Skye's innocence or what little was left of it - And all for what? - Revenge.

"Fine," he said softly, "You're not my sister. Now tell me how will your Commander receive you once he knows what you've done? Will he welcome you with open arms? Will he listen to your pleas?"

Skye crossed her arms over her chest defiantly, as he ranted on losing himself in the emotional avalanche that was building inside.

"No! He will cast you out and leave you to die. Then he will erase you until you're nothing but an empty profile in a computer, a ghost in the machine," he then finished, his eyes swelling with tears. She saw his scars so clearly now, his pain reached a part of her that didn't want to let go.

His trademark grin returned with a hint of madness. He chuckled, pleading to her, "Is that really who you want to choose in all of this?"

He didn't succeed in showing her how wicked his father was. All she saw were two evils of which only one supported her morals. If she'd throw herself into his fire, she'd burn until there was nothing left of her. And she didn't believe he could love her either after that. You don't destroy what you love; you change it for the better.

She could tell he was going to leave a scar, but she didn't mind. She'd live through it somehow.

"You were right," she acknowledged sadly, "It doesn't change the way I feel about you."

Skye stepped closer to him, claiming his lips with hers. It was bittersweet, a kiss goodbye. Lucas stood by passively, accepting her affection, yet he did not participate himself. There was no passion in her kiss, her lips trembled against him. He felt strangely numb, already anticipating her next move, as she pulled away.

"But it changes everything else. I'm done Lucas. I'm going back and I won't help you anymore," she then finished, speaking the hard truths in her heart with strange ease.

She expected him to grab her, keep her still, refuse to let her go, but he watched her walk away calmly with contempt.

"You'll be back," he told her, rejecting everything she'd just said. He knew she'd be back for her mother, for him. She'd see the error of her ways, realize how the grief of his absence hurt like hell, and she'd come back to him - he just knew it.

So he made no effort to stop her, he just stood there, feeling like he'd won somehow. A sad delusion that would crumble only after she'd left.

* * *

Skye couldn't walk away fast enough. She didn't stop for anything, not even a glimpse at her mother. She treated this escape like tearing off a band-aid – do it quickly and it would hurt less. It didn't stop her eyes from being clouded by tears, or her strength faltering as she ran through the woods. She grasped onto a weapon, searched for danger, ending up running until her lungs were screaming for her to stop.

And she stopped, kicking and screaming at the nearest tree, her outburst unlike ever before. She'd never felt this weak and powerless, never so helpless. Caught panting and cursing until her heartbeat became steady again, she stood there, pain pulsating through-out her body. Running was the easy thing to do, whereas staying would've required her to be strong, she recognized this. Yet the window of opportunity was closing, she needed to get going while she still could, and she'd chosen to go for it.

Finding a spark of hope within her, she set off running again, this time with a more bearable pace. Her legs carried her towards the future, towards Terra Nova. Maybe she had a genuine shot of reinventing herself? Maybe she could live for herself for once?

Back at the camp Lucas came to slowly realize she wasn't coming back. He rested his hand on the table, drumming its surface impatiently, going through everything she'd said. He didn't fully grasp where they'd gone wrong, but he knew he'd lost her. And once that thought became dominant the fear kicked him into motion. He rushed outside, whistling for assistance. A few of his foot soldiers immediately caught the whistle from the ground, turning to him like flowers turned to the sun.

Lucas leaned over the rail, pointing in the general direction of Terra Nova. "The girl left by foot, go get her back," he told them, watching as they set in motion immediately, following his command. Lucas squeezed the rail under his hands, feeling how unyielding the wood was. He suppressed the impulses that demanded him to chase her himself. She couldn't have gotten far.

Regret licked his skin like a flame, that voice deep inside telling him she didn't love him. Lucas ignored it; still certain that he did love her and not even this would stop that. The roots were too strong, they grasped his heart, unwilling to let go. He would find her.

* * *

Skye ran, thick sweat falling down her neck, clinging onto her back. The sweat made her skin itch, resembling the worst kind of rash. She felt uncomfortable, but the years of spying had taught her to ignore those feelings, push them to the back of her head. Time was elusive but she was certain she'd been going at least a half an hour. Her water was almost out, despite her attempts to ration it. The heat was scorching, her only salvation being the shadow of the trees.

The distance seemed almost impossible to cross by foot, to make it in time. She didn't give up though, didn't let her weakness get in the way. Hunger was making her feel dizzy, her steps stumbled. A headache emerged; the heat wearied her down more and more. Even nature seemed to go against her, the terrain attempting to slow her advance as much as possible.

She reached the top of a hill, realizing she needed to descend the rocky slope down. Again she scanned for signs of predators and wildlife, finding nothing. This she really seemed to have the devil's luck on her side. So Skye took one step down, steady in her descent. Her first steps were slow, careful, but she quickened the paste, realizing how time was of the essence. Her heart was beating wildly again. It drowned the noises of the jungle beneath it, yet she also had the strangest feeling of being watched.

Then she caught a glimpse of something from the corner of her eye, something moving ahead. It made her choose her steps unwisely, land straight into a spot where the ground was loose. It shifted beneath her weight, making her lose her balance in an instant as her tired legs couldn't find a footing. Skye fell with a thump, rolling down the hill a bit. She fell off a small cliff, shielding her head with her hands. The impact with the ground knocked the air from her lugs, reintroduced her to physical pain. It was somewhat easy to take in contrast with heartache.

She lied still for a moment, the world spinning around her. There was noise in the distance; she pushed herself up with her scraped hands to see what it was. The stones beneath her hands prickled, her body felt unable to co-operative, yet she managed to get up. A vehicle was approaching. Not knowing what to do, she froze in the headlights, shielding her eyes with her hands.

The rover stopped in front of her wavering figure, soldiers stepping out. They moved quickly, she had trouble keeping her eyes focused. Their faces felt like a blur, none of them looking familiar. Her brain told her they weren't Sixers though, and sadly she realized she almost wished they had been.

"Skye Tate, you're under arrest for treason," one of them told her, while another circled around her, pushing her onwards. He bent her over the hood of the vehicle, pulling her arms behind her back and locking her wrists in the steel embrace of a pair of handcuffs. She didn't resist.

"We're taking you back to Terra Nova. The Commander will know what to do with you," that same voice preached, the disdain its owner had for her quite clear. She got pulled up and dragged to the backseat like lifeless doll. She followed them without objections. Her sense told her it was over, so what use was resisting now?

The two figures who'd been tracing her in the distance observed as the vehicle drove off with her. They sensed trouble, but headed back with the news anyway. Their leader would not be happy.

They didn't speak on the drive back to Terra Nova. Not one of the soldiers in the vehicle said a word, yet their aggression towards her hung in the air like a deadly cloud. Skye's disorientation faded eventually, leaving her fully aware of everything that went around her, despite the initial haze of her fall and the shock.

She'd been too late after all; someone had noticed her absence, let Taylor know and he'd connected the dots finally. Maybe he'd even searched her room and found the hard drive. In retrospect her decision to leave it behind, especially in such a ridiculous hiding place, was foolish. She'd threatened to expose Lucas, but hadn't really meant to give his research to his father. It felt wrong. Like betraying a secret or a diary – the cold numbers had the same meaning to him, they were extremely personal. They weren't meant for anyone else's eyes.

The cuffs cut into her skin as the uneven road bounced the vehicle and her along with it. She didn't have any energy to complain and saw no use, since they wouldn't listen to her anyway. She'd seen what everyone thought of Curran, the slander he got behind his back. Skye might've not been a murderer, yet her crime was worse. She didn't know if she had any other option than exile now.

She contemplated what the Commander would do to her – his own foster daughter – now that he knew. Was there mercy in his heart, or was he just as frozen inside as Lucas had told her? For a second she wondered if he'd actually told her the truth, if the man she loved and respected like a father had really killed his wife. Could it be that Lucas' rage was justified? Could it be that the scars in him weren't self-inflicted, that he needed someone to untangle him?

Her thoughts circled around him again almost possessively – that's how she knew he couldn't make her hate him. She'd left him behind because she couldn't support him. It had been the adult thing to do, yet it didn't lessen the crazy faith she had in him. That feeling wasn't explainable by logic; it wasn't based on actions or words.

Terra Nova appeared into view in the front window, appearing majestic in the horizon. They drove through the long open field, and she could feel the soldiers tense in anticipation. They would be commended for catching her, probably get free drinks at the bar and a pat on the back. Good men with values, good soldiers following orders. And what was she? - Just a lost little girl in an impossible situation. She didn't think even Lucas could solve that equation.

They drove through the gate, slowing down at first and then stopping altogether. Hands grabbed her almost violently, pulling her out from her forearm. She felt like a ragdoll being hauled from one place to another. She staggered once she was pulled on her feet, felt the overwhelming stares all around her as the crowd watched how she was dragged around bloodied and bruised like she'd actually put up a fight. Skye steeled herself, escaped into his arms as he'd held her during their reunion, his love so comforting and beautiful.

Her eyes searched the crowd for familiar faces, finding some staring back at her in shock, anger and anguish. No one connected with her though; everyone looked right through her, seeing only the spy, who had endangered them all. She would have to learn to accept this role now. It was her part in this play, like Eve falling victim to temptation, to sin. And their leader would condemn her accordingly.

Someone was radioing in the distance, while Skye was being led towards descending stairs. She knew they led to the brig. She pressed her head when they begun descending the stairs, the door opening in front of them. And despite her impulse to look at the crowd one more time, she didn't.

It was cool in the brig; she could feel the change in temperature send shivers across her body. Sweat had licked her moist, helping the cold to spread. The farthest cell door was open, a man holding it for her. It took an extended moment to recognize Tasha's father, Guzman, yet the connection brought no joy to her. A familiar face wasn't what wanted right now in the middle of this mess. She took notice of the way he observed her though, a serene expression so different from the hostility of the other soldiers.

Her escort stopped her with a pad to her shoulder when they reached the door, and he opened the handcuffs behind her back. The pain in her wrists subsided, although the abrasions begun to tickle almost immediately. Then her escort pushed her inside the cell, and she heard the door get locked behind her. No words were exchanged even now; he just left, rolling the handcuffs around his finger almost playfully. Guzman stayed though, his serious eyes cast on her. She half-expected him to preach, question, or just speak to her, but his stare was mute.

She walked up the bunk bed in the cell, sitting down and removing her shoes. They felt uncomfortable in her feet, pressed against her toes. Then she leaned her hands against her knees, eyes cast down. She was so hungry she could barely move, let alone think. Hunger was turning into a wound inside her, constantly reminding her of its existence through ache. Pride wouldn't allow her to ask for food, but her survival instinct was stronger.

"Can I get food?" she asked faintly, glancing at the soldier in the corridor.

She was surprised to see his face gain a gentler dimension. "Of course, Skye," he said, taking off right away.

He halted at the door though, his hand frozen over the doorknob. "Was it worth it?" he asked, not judging her. He was just curious and sad.

Skye considered her victories: her mother's life, her relationship with Lucas. For a passing moment she considered just saying it aloud, but then she came to a different conclusion. "No," she said softly, "It was never worth it."

But desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Be sure to tell him that," he responded before leaving her alone. Skye knew who he was talking about though. The Commander would see her sooner or later. And she would tell him everything with her head held up high.

It might've not been worth it, but she wouldn't trade it away either.

TBC


	8. Realignment

Skye realized she must have dosed off after eating. It was strange how her disclosure had worked as a sedative, giving her the best sleep she'd had in years. Her dreams hadn't been as pleasant though. He'd been in them, crushing her between his hands, fire in his eyes. Skye wondered if he'd already realized she wasn't coming back, or if he still waited, his heart turning to stone. It was the last thing she'd wanted.

She cleared her throat carefully, pulling the blanket on tighter. Its warmth gave her at least some comfort in the otherwise cold cell. She shook off the last traces of sleep mere seconds later, upon realizing she wasn't alone in the room. Skye moved her head, alerted eyes pinpointing the other person in the room. It was Taylor.

He sat over a stool on the other side of her prison, leaned on his knees, protected from her by the iron bars that held them apart. She couldn't feel hostility from him, and it surprised her, having expected it. But he was calm, collected. With sadness she realized this wasn't her foster father, this was an interrogator.

"I see you're awake," Taylor commented, watching as she rose to sit on her bed. He noticed her bruised hands now, evaluated each scrape on her skin. "We should have Elizabeth check on you. The soldiers tell me you fell when they found you," he said, leading their conversation willfully.

She couldn't give him any points for worrying, because it felt superficial. Or perhaps it was her inability to accept his care in this situation. Either way, she knew her actions had consequences, and this was one of the most painful one to accept.

"What were you running from?" he asked, continuing his earlier train of thought. His fingers were rustling his beard, he held himself stiffly. He was curious, always a good sign. He would listen to what she had to say, hear her side of the story. Six months ago that would've been all she'd ask of him. Now things were more complicated.

Thirst made the words get stuck in her throat. She was probably still a bit dehydrated from her mindless run through the jungle, even when she'd drank greedily the first chance she'd gotten. Skye reached for a water bottle by her bunk bed, feeling the water refresh her once she got some in her system. Taylor waited for her answer patiently, as he was unable to look past her banged appearance in this case. With anyone else he would've already made his move, but not her, not her. She was grateful for the little things, so when she finished she gave him her attention in full again.

"I wasn't running from," Skye explained. She felt so numb. "I was running to Terra Nova, back to the construction before anyone would notice I was gone."

She ran a hand through her hair as she leaned her back against the wall, lifting her knees between them. It was a protective stance, she faced him with calmness. He would've expected her to be more erratic, nervous, yet she was acting like she was in control. How surprising.

"But someone did notice," he continued her thought, reading it from her face. "Josh Shannon was quite worried about you, so he searched for you. And when he didn't find you, we searched for you."

Skye could imagine the panic at first, slowly trading to suspicion, as the pieces began to fit in place. Lucas was the reason she hadn't thought clearly, her mind had been so wrapped in the revelation of his identity, their link. He'd really become her Achilles' heel.

"Washington told me you'd asked about Lucas, my son. Whereas Shannon denied you would've had any chance to overhear him and his wife talking about him. But even that was explainable."

The Commander spoke in a detached manner, distancing himself from the emotions, the disappointment. Skye had to wonder if this was also the way he'd handled his son's exile. The seed of truth shone in Lucas' story now, and it made her consider things in new light. However, the hope she felt was more important. Taylor hadn't mentioned the hard drive yet, perhaps it was safe?

"I didn't want to believe them, so we searched your room," he then revealed and pulled the hard drive from his pocked, showing it to her, observing her reaction. Skye couldn't hide it; the pain emerged unwittingly, her inhale was loud. And he saw the effect his reveal had in her, which in return stirred his feelings.

"You plugged this into the Eye and checked the calculations, the key to my son's victory. And then you hid them in your room and ran to their camp and back, getting caught."He was reasoning her actions, trying to understand what had happened. But the picture was incomplete still. He lacked motivation, the passion that drove her to these acts, these incomprehensible decisions.

"Help me here, Skye. I don't understand this," Taylor said, shaking his head a bit, a frown on his forehead. Every emotion he showed was downright detached, an actor saying their lines. Skye despised his behavior, wanted him to tell her how he really felt. How were they supposed to fix any of this, when he wouldn't even look her in the eye and tell her she'd screwed up?

"I've been doing this for three years now," she told him, expecting to feel shame and finding herself incapable of it. Somewhere along the line she'd reached the point of over saturation. Encouraged by this, she claimed his eyes with a drilling stare. "But when I found out who he was and what he intended, I couldn't do it."

Pride and relief swelled inside him. He'd tried his best to reason this, his senses fighting to demonize her, even if he'd known all along she wasn't bad. Misguided perhaps, but not the way his son was. It didn't mean much in this messy situation, but it was better than nothing.

"How did it start? Why would you help them?" He questioned, wanting to shake her awake from her apathy, that brave front she upheld. Surely Skye had to know the Sixers weren't going to let Terra Nova stand once they were through with it?

Skye averted her eyes for a moment, pushing back an anxious sigh. Talking about her mother hurt, just thinking of her was excruciating. "They have medicine for Sincyllic Fever," she revealed, not noticing the way his eyes lit up in the face of this unexpected revelation.

"So when my dad died, I made a deal with Mira. They took my mom and gave her this medicine. She's still alive because of it," she told him, unable to face him. She knew he wouldn't believe it at first, that he'd claim her words a lie, because it would undermine his own failure to keep his people safe. And it was OK; she understood that better than most.

"Where would they get this medicine?" he asked, giving her the clear sense that he was humoring a child, refusing to believe her.

"I didn't ask," Skye shot back, frustration building in her body.

He replied to her with disappointment, taking notice of her shifting attitude, "I see."

She noticed he was about to stand up, and her head snapped back to him, worry taking over. He'd barely even exchanged words with her, and he was already leaving? "I wasn't finished yet," she told him, the hardest secret of all burning inside her, clawing for a way out.

Taylor raised a brow, clearly thinking they were done for today. He stood up, defying her plead, almost like he wanted to show she no longer had power over him, that her tears wouldn't matter. But he didn't walk away yet; he rested his hand on the bars, hesitation all over him.

"I need to consider this in peace, Skye," he told her, a sorrowful authority peaking in his voice.

"I met a man six months ago," she countered him, hoping he would listen. And her words did stop his leaving, left him wondering what this was about.

"It was at Snakehead Falls, that time I went there alone and you came and picked me up, remember?" she recalled, actually feeling joy over this memory. It was one of the better ones from the past few years. Taylor listened to her carefully, trying to grasp what she was trying to tell him.

"We didn't know one another, but he listened to me. He restored my faith," tears snuck into the corners of her eyes, stinging as they fought to emerge. "I fell in love with him, and he fell in love with me."

He was thinking of the worst possible option: that she was seduced by some Sixer, who sought to take advantage of her trust. He swore silently he would make that man pay for hurting her, no matter what she'd done to him. In a way she was still his daughter, still one of the things he fought for.

"He would carve markings on the rocks, his life's work on display. And when he asked me to check his calculations, I said yes," she recalled, alerting him to the truth.

It vibrated through him violently, tearing every assumption to pieces. Taylor's mask fell, his shock suddenly visible. He clenched his hand to a fist, hoping she would prove his assumptions wrong. A sickness made its nest inside him, a knot of feelings he could not recognize, but what held onto him: a second skin aflame.

"But I was curious about him. And when I learned he was your son, I just didn't know anything anymore. I went to him, not knowing what to think." Talking became harder and harder, as she took notice of his rage, his utter powerlessness.

"What he told you was a lie, Skye," Taylor warned, as his hand closed around the bars forcibly. "He doesn't love you, he can't."

She hit the bed with her fist when he spoke, angry that he could tell her what Lucas felt or didn't feel. "It was real. It is real!" she yelled back, sneering at him in pain.

Taylor looked at her like she was crazy, like she'd really turned into a stranger over night. Lucas had told her it wouldn't be easy, but she hadn't expected this. Skye had honestly thought Lucas' hatred was based on delusion, something childish and repairable.

"You and my son…," Taylor said, his voice trailing off. He could not believe it. It was too strange of a coincidence, he was certain Lucas had planned this to hurt him. He didn't think his son was capable of feeling anything but hatred, his mind locked on the one emotion he could safely show. Lucas was troubled; his mind yearned for terrible things. Yet she claimed she had a genuine connection with him. Taylor just couldn't believe it was possible.

"Why does he hate you so much?" Skye asked, yearning for the truth. Lucas viewed his father through a colorless lens, unable to see anything but absolutes. She wanted to believe there was more to this story than just that. She really wanted to end this silence for all their sakes. Maybe it would mean she'd be stuck in the middle, caught in the crossfire, but wasn't it worth a shot?

Taylor looked at her with surprise, then withdrawing from her cell, turning his eyes from her. "That's not something for your ears," he told her evasively, shielding himself from reliving those horrors. He didn't feel like he owed her an explanation.

Skye watched him walk away. Something boiled inside her, she yelled after him, "Did you kill your wife!"

He recoiled, but kept going without answering.

"Did you?" she yelled again, demanding for answers. But he merely walked away.

Skye sank into her bed, overcome by the cruel rejection he'd given her. She'd lost one father already, and the thought of losing another hurt, but at the same time she recognized things had never been like that with Taylor. A strain between them had existed from the start and she hadn't minded because she'd had a secret from him too. Skye had just never considered there were secrets Taylor was keeping from her.

Wasn't family there to share the pain, to dull it down for you? Maybe he was so stuck on that life, that hidden history, that he could not talk about it in the now, knowing it was lost? Skye forced herself to look at this with logic. His wife was dead, his son trying to destroy his home and planning on killing him too. Somehow she'd just assumed they could've talked about it, let one another in. Right now she had no idea where they stood, if there was a future for her at Terra Nova anymore.

* * *

Lucas sat in the darkness. The sun had gone down, leaving a blood trail behind it, and he'd watched the dying sunset and he'd waited. In vain, it seemed.

At a distance from him, she was still screaming at delusions, for a husband long gone, at a daughter who'd abandoned her. Mira stood restlessly by him, unwilling to say what needed to be said. She had painted her face with colors, braided her hair with trophies, small bones and feathers. Lucas noticed her flinch each time the shouting started again, noticed how the fate of one sick woman seemed to bother her so. He could tell she wanted to say something, offer nature's wisdom perhaps, yet she knew to stay silent.

A few minutes later Carter exited the hut, another calm noiseless period upon them, as he began his approach. As emotionless as always, he gave Mira a slight nod and turned to Lucas, wiping his hands clean on a worn tissue. "She's out cold, couldn't risk her screaming through the night," he explained, gaining an approving look from his leader.

"How much did you use?" Mira asked, careful not to sound too disapproving. She understood why Carter had used some of their very short supply of tranquilizers on that woman, but knew with perfect clarity that this could not go on. Deborah Tate was becoming dead weight, especially now since their spy had been caught.

"Few drops," Carter responded, probably belittling the truth a bit. Mira was used to his generous estimates though, and added some to the calculations she was running in her head. They were low on supplies and burdened with a perhaps terminally sick woman, who was of no use to them. Had Deborah not been with them for over three years, Mira would've left her already.

Yet attachments had been formed despite the peculiar nature of their responsibilities for one another. Mira knew their medic had been hoping she'd be cured, even after it became apparent that Deborah had come to them a little too late for the medicine to work miracles. She also knew what Lucas would say, should she suggest leaving her behind. He had a strange penchant for the weak, and she'd seen him by her bedside more than once. It also didn't help that he knew it would a bad move if he wanted Skye to ever look at him again.

"Just say it, Mira," Lucas requested softly, his voice almost caressing. He had been surprisingly calm through-out this ordeal, listening to the trackers sensibly when they had told him Skye had been caught, and even admitting to Mira she'd been right. His calmness was deceptive though, she was certain the façade would fall rather sooner than later and hoped she was nowhere near him then.

"We can't help her," Mira said, having thought her choice of her words long and hard. "She will die in pain if she stays with us."

Lucas snorted at her words, realizing how she avoided the issue, danced around it, hoping he wouldn't notice. She was good at it though, good at diversion, spinning the truth. He glanced over at Carter; saw that he shared her opinion. Then again Carter hardly ever disagreed with Mira. Theirs was a largely mute companionship, but a working relationship nevertheless.

"We don't have the technology to diagnose her and treat her accordingly," Carter said, supporting Mira, even if he wasn't as interested in their guest's fate as his superiors were.

Surprisingly Lucas rose, on a seemingly good mood. "You're right, both of you," he complimented them, giving each an approving glance in his own crooked way, leaving them unsure of what was going on.

By now everyone knew the rumors, how he'd lost his cool around a girl, their spy. And anyone would've been close enough to hear parts of their heated argument, knew it wasn't just business either. Mira above all knew what should've been up, because she knew the lengths this man would go for that girl, so seeing him treat the news of her mother's worsening condition with such a light heart just didn't click.

"Deborah Tate needs proper medical care, which is something she will only receive in Terra Nova," Lucas then announced, pausing to see their reactions. There was a short-lived relief, a flicker of curiosity, and then the realization that Lucas had something on his mind.

"Are we simply handing her over?" Carter asked, uncertain, whether he should be troubled by this turn of events. He felt tempted to consult Mira, yet held his impulse back. It wasn't like Mira could argue against Lucas with more success than anyone else.

"No," Mira said, clearly catching onto Lucas' ploy. "He wants to trade."

Lucas flashed a smile at Mira, positively surprised she could read him this well. "Yes, that is my intention. We give them Deborah and the medicine, which they will have to perfect in order to save her, and then we take the fruits of their labor and then some," he explained, already enjoying his gambit. He would detract greater enjoyment from watching his father succumb to it, give him what he needed for the good of others.

Mira saw something else there as well, yet chose to keep her mouth until Carter left. She had had better success reaching Lucas when they were alone. Lucas wasn't an easy person to accustom to, and he also took his time accustoming with others. Carter wasn't someone Lucas would relax around.

Carter eyed them in turns for orders, ready to comply once they were spoken aloud. To him it was strange how Lucas always seemed to find the elusive options in situations where others could only see the two obvious choices. What Lucas lacked in his people skills, he certainly had in intelligence. A physicist that was capable of thinking outside the box, of surviving in these conditions, of igniting this guerilla war against Terra Nova – he certainly was a man of surprises. His accomplishments didn't make Carter like him any better, but there was respect. Lucas was the man who would get them all home one day.

"Weapons?" Mira asked, hesitant a bit. Lucas shook his head though, his face gaining a tired dimension. For a second he actually looked his rather young age. "No, he will never go for that. But supplies, medicine, food, he will accept them."

"Shall I prepare Deborah for transport?" Carter asked eager to remove this problem from their lives.

"No, we'll make contact tomorrow," Mira instructed before Lucas had a chance to say otherwise. She wasn't making another move tonight, and neither was Lucas, if she had a say in it. Mira signaled Carter away with her eyes, noticing the way Lucas subtly reacted to her taking command.

Lucas closed his eyes for a moment, reaching for his forehead with his hand. The cut from earlier was still painful. He didn't mind Carter leaving or Mira's interest in him. He was exhausted and wanted sleep, but his body repelled the thought of lying down on his bed when it still smelled like her. His thoughts would circle her, their argument, her leaving and sleep would evade him. Was it too much to ask to be able to push her away for just a few hours, for some undisturbed rest?

Once Mira was sure no one was within hearing range of them, she sat down on a stool, exhaling visibly. "You want to trade for her," she said, finding his attachment more and more frightening.

Lucas didn't deny it, as it was his intention. Two birds with one stone. It wasn't like his father wanted her now that she was tainted by betrayal. But Lucas did. He wanted her more than before; believed this ordeal would open her eyes, show her the true faces of his father and the citizens of her precious Terra Nova.

"She's not a sick cripple, so either way we'll win," he reminded her with a smile, fully aware of the implications of her tone of voice.

Mira sought to protect her flock, to keep on fighting until Lucas was done and the gates to heaven would open again. Skye was a complication she hadn't asked for.

"You're not what they told me you would be," Mira said, delving into the past for the first time since they'd met. She recalled that time quite clearly; being sick, weak, treated by him. They – Sixers – had been a crew thrown together only by money, and once their plans had gone south, there had been a power struggle.

Mira knew now she would've not made it, if it weren't for Lucas' support. He'd seen something in her, something worth keeping around. Because she knew their employers wouldn't have cared if she'd died sick in the jungle. There had been many eager to replace her. Lucas had come to her aid unexpectedly and stayed by her side. His care had been clinical, without true compassion, yet he had fixed her, made her into a leader in his absence.

Their employers had warned her about him later on, told her to give him all the help he needed. They said he was a man without a conscience, a bastard son in it for personal reasons, but along the years she'd seen his true self shine through. Underneath it all, he was soft, almost despicably soft.

Lucas didn't mind her observation, he welcomed it. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Mira hurried to correct him though, "It's not one."

It seemed to pierce this illusion he upheld, this mood he'd chosen. Mira saw the Lucas Taylor she knew creep into his eyes, a predatory shine became visible.

"You don't think straight when it comes to her. You make dangerous decisions for us all. And that makes you a liability," she explained, touching the small scar on her throat almost absent mindedly. He noticed the gesture though, for his eyes found that scar easily. Lucas wanted to deny her words, yet couldn't.

"I know," he simply stated, surprising her with his frankness. Mira was about to say something, when he cut her off forcibly, "That's why you're here: To keep me in check."

Hostility had crept back into his voice, but this time she didn't coward before him. Mira's eyes remained distrustful, openly disapproving. "You touch me again, and I will kick your teeth in," she barked at him, only succeeding in amusing him. Apparently the time for tiptoeing was over.

"We're very close now Lucas, your dream and mine are almost at hand. Yet you trusted her with the most important task and she didn't deliver," she muttered with vexation. "If you bring her back, please, for all our sakes, keep her at a distance."

"Is that what you're worried about?" Lucas asked honestly, giving into his fatigue. Then she saw a glimpse his darker self, a reminder of what he was truly capable of. He leaned in closer to her, keeping his voice down. "You should know by now that I don't take kindly to traitors."

He didn't bother to say more. Mira's face revealed him all he needed to know. She no longer feared she would be caught in the flood of his rage, no, Skye would be the one. One way or another Lucas would find a way to punish her.

"What if your father forgives her and refuses to trade her?" Mira questioned, basing her assumptions on her knowledge of the Commander. Taylor still loved his son after everything. In contrast Skye's sins were modest.

"He won't, trust me," Lucas settled to say, certain of his words.

"I guess we'll see tomorrow," Mira responded, his doubts lingering.

"I guess we will."

TBC


	9. Something is broken

She didn't know how she survived the night. No one visited her after Taylor had gone, which left her alone in her cell, suffering through the quiet. Only the quiet was superficial; beneath it laid the noise, the thoughts, the feelings and they had her attention fully. She turned and twisted, tried to understand father and son, mother and daughter, a part of her frightened to sleep, scared of waking up to a changed world.

Things had been clear before: she had a home she was forced to work against, a man she was torn away from, a father figure she loved but could not confide in, and a dying mother she wanted to save more than anything. Now everything was backwards: the home she'd had rejected her, she'd pushed away the man she loved herself, choosing to confide in the father figure she could only disappoint and the dying mother had ended up saving the remnants of her childhood.

Did doing the right thing always hurt this much? Had there been an alternative she could've chosen? The questions kept her awake in the dark, listening to hum of the air conditioning, smelling the crisp scent of concrete dust that floated in the air. Restless sleep claimed her eventually, uncertainty bleeding into her dreams and heart.

The next time she woke up was when she had another visitor. Elizabeth Shannon arrived to examine her condition as Taylor had promised. She didn't speak much, as they were under constant observation by the guard, who stayed in the room with them. Skye suspected Taylor had strictly forbidden Elizabeth from asking any questions pertaining to her betrayal. He sought to isolate her, keep the damage to a minimum. It was good thinking, strategically that is.

Elizabeth examined her with a frown, acting quiet and withdrawn; clearly bothered by the circumstances they were meeting under. She sprayed something over the bruises on Skye's wrists, taking the ache away and numbing the skin, then moving on to the little cuts and scratches the fall had given her. She cleaned all the scrapes and checked all the bruises calmly, asking Skye whether she hurt whenever she moved on to a new spot. At one point she actually needed to apply a local anesthetic to remove something from one of the cuts, a fragment of sorts that was dug deep into Skye's flesh. It didn't feel like anything though, and it was over relatively quickly.

Afterwards Skye felt stupid for not realizing how hurt she'd been, and she was actually glad for Elizabeth for a moment there.

Once done with that, Elizabeth pulled out a small case and opened it. She had a syringe with her, a shot Skye needed to take just in case, having been to such close proximity to the Sixers and her sick mother. Receiving her patient's permission, she made the shot to Skye's exposed pelvis, proceeding with precision and haste.

And after an uncomfortable silence, she asked Skye if there was anything else that needed to be checked. Something in her tone alerted Skye, told her that Elizabeth was concerned of her lack of contraception. Skye just settled to shake her head listlessly, unwilling to go through the uncomfortable examinations and questionnaire. Her body was no one else's business right now.

Her answer only made the furrows in her doctor's forehead deepen though. She glanced at the soldier in the corridor and walked up to the bars, asking politely for him to leave for the duration of the examination. Conflicted between duty and the social norms, he stood there for minute, eyes set in Skye's sitting figure, her visible apathy an interest to him. Then he confirmed instructions by radio and left when he was told it was alright.

"I already told you I don't want any examination," Skye complained, as Elizabeth made her way to sit next to Skye on the bunk bed.

The older woman took her hand gently; her earlier coldness replaced my almost motherly worry. Taylor's instructions raced through her head, whispering fears into her mind. "Skye," she pleaded kindly, "I need you to be honest with me. Did you and Josh… were you intimate?"

Skye's eyes snapped into her, this ridiculous claim bewildering her. "No," she shook her head, feeling even more uncomfortable. Her hand withdrew from Elizabeth's. "Never," Skye whispered, her voice convincing the worried mother beside her.

However this raised new questions. "But Taylor said I needed to make sure you were… Skye, they didn't touch did they?" Such concern might've touched Skye on any other day, but today she could only think how wrong this was, having this conversation with this woman. Elizabeth had been nothing but good to her, so putting her in this position was something Skye hadn't wanted.

She tilted her head, an expression of disillusion all over her face. "If the question was have I had sex lately, then the answer is no. Not with your son, not with anyone. Otherwise, it is still none of your business," she spoke with trouble, trying to harden herself even when her privacy was wounded like this. But the hurt in her voice was visible; it only aroused Elizabeth's trepidation.

"Skye, don't tell me you did this for someone, a man?" Elizabeth inquired, disbelieving, hoping Skye would prove her wrong.

"I didn't start this for him, but I put an end to it for him," Skye confessed, her love visible and fragile.

"Who?" Elizabeth asked, and then it suddenly made sense: The way Taylor had been so shaken yesterday, the way Jim had kept on inquiring whether she'd spoken about Taylor's son in front of Skye or Josh: Taylor's son Lucas, who was working with the Sixers according to Jim.

"Taylor's son?" she asked, shaken by the surprise.

Skye turned to look straight into Elizabeth now, their gazes locked together. She looked so calm, almost like nothing could surprise her anymore. "Why else would've he asked you to do a check up?" Skye asked gravely, wondering if the news would spread across Terra Nova now.

Skye Tate, not only a traitor, but a Sixer slut too, screwing with the Commander's unhinged son behind his back. That was all they would see, all their minds could understand, where they were just people who happened to meet one sunny day in her mind. Lucas wasn't inheritably evil and Taylor wasn't all good either - that's what made everything so hard.

"I'm so sorry Skye," Elizabeth said, shifting, and then suddenly pulling Skye to a careful embrace. Her sympathy hadn't been what Skye had expected; it caught her off-guard. She felt so small and young in Elizabeth's embrace, for a moment she forgot she was supposed to be a villainess, not a misguided girl.

The soldier was knocking on the door seconds later, calling for permission to re-enter. Elizabeth pulled away reluctantly and rose to her feet before giving him permission. After that they were in back in their roles, a disapproving doctor and a disinclined prisoner.

Elizabeth left some minutes later, shrouded in the same thoughtful apathy that had taken hold of Skye. She didn't utter a goodbye for her sole comforter, just leaned back to the wall, counting the tiles on the opposite side behind the bars.

She was beginning to realize why prison was a punishment. This concrete pit she'd been thrown in was already too small, too crude for her senses. Skye longer for the outside air: the sounds and smells of the jungle. Curiously, she could only truly appreciate freedom now that it was lost to her. Trading the numbing environment of her cell to a vibrant memory of the world outside, Skye sunk into an experience, recalling every manner in which she'd lived before, hoping it would be enough to sustain her through this nightmare.

Some time later a familiar figure entered her cell, the sound of his boots creaking as he walked, waking her effectively from her thoughts. Taylor was back, the skin of an interrogator shed, and the man she knew in his stead. Eyes brushing over his mid-section, she quickly realized his holster was empty; his pose a little less formal. What was up with that?

He stopped by her cell, hung on his own regret, his shortcomings. "Skye," he said softly, a familiar tone consisting of affection and discomfort reminding her of the way things had once been. It was a good sign.

She didn't know what to say, so she just said what she wanted to. This wasn't her game, not her war. Skye didn't see herself as the pawn that would solve this game by travelling tirelessly to the other side of the chessboard.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," she apologized, realizing she'd only wanted to hurt him back the only way she knew she could. Saying that Lucas didn't care – that it was an act – had really gotten to her. It had driven her to an ugly place, somewhere she didn't wish to go again.

"It's alright," he comforted her, pleased to see her more like she'd been before everything. Her straightforwardness had really set her apart from the other children, her ability to take responsibility of her own mistakes. Taylor recalled taking a liking to her even when her parents – no, her father – had still been alive.

"I was out of line," he then confessed, admitting his own mistakes in her wake.

"I could've told you about it better, but I didn't know how. He hates you so much," Skye spoke with a distressed frown, slipping back into pain, into the moment where she was stuck holding the weight of the world, keeping everything together. "But it's not my place to ask why," she admitted, understanding the line between them.

Taylor drew in a heavy breath, leaning against the bars with his hand between them and his forehead. He couldn't say it, but it showed all over his face: something inside him was broken, a piece still missing from whatever had happened between father and son. She could tell he honestly didn't know how to fix it.

"We do need to talk about something though," she whispered, her voice muffled, weak.

"Lucas," Taylor agreed.

"Lucas and I," Skye corrected him, standing up from her bed, thumbs sliding in the cuffs of her pants as she approached him. "It happened whether you wanted it or not."

He pulled his forehead away from his hand, looking straight at her now. He was listening, fully intent on hearing everything this time, in spite of his impulses. Her behavior contradicted the rumors that had started spreading, rumors he'd tried to weed the best he could, but found himself powerless in their face. Skye wasn't stupid, but she was fiercely dedicated to her cause. She didn't have to make up lies about her mother being still alive, when her own actions supported the theory that she'd been an unwitting ally, only seeking to keep a loved one safe.

"Elizabeth told me to take it easy on you. She felt I should try and understand," Taylor explained the shift in his behavior, clearly sorry for what he'd put her through. Skye didn't know what Elizabeth had said exactly, but she assumed Elizabeth had seen enough to recognize someone unhappily in love.

"The timing was right," Skye told him, trying to reach for something inside him, something cold and long forgotten that might recognize attraction and loneliness and see how they would lead to feelings. "I needed closeness and he needed somebody. I could tell he was lonely, that he worked mercilessly on those numbers, dedicating his days to cracking them."

Yet hearing it wasn't easy, Taylor shifted more than once. He held his ground though, keeping to his decision. All he could see was the boy, who'd left five years ago, unable to shoot his own father even when he'd plotted to overthrow him. Lucas had fixated on his work, withdrawn from all other social contact, until worry had driven Taylor near insane. He'd only brought his son here so he might have a chance at a better life, so they might have a chance to connect again. Thinking back, Taylor had often wondered if exile had been the right choice.

"Your son isn't a monster. I can't explain it, but I know he can come around," she continued, incapable of expressing herself clearly. The words fled her, she couldn't grasp them.

"I know," Taylor responded, recognizing this as well. "But there is only so much I can do, until we reach a point where it's impossible for Lucas to come around."

And that was what she feared too. Lucas was close to that place; he was lingering at its doorstep because of her. She knew he was divided in two: the cruel man thrown in the jungle and the boy, who wanted to be loved. One side would win out eventually, and the decision would mean the end of Terra Nova or the Sixers. Yet she bled a little inside when she heard Taylor say it; that there was a chance Lucas would fulfill his dark fantasy.

"I won't let that happen!" she exclaimed, realizing only a moment later how foolish it was to say so. She was locked here, held prisoner and she would be trialed and condemned any day now. Not to mention the fact that she had walked out on him, probably only reinforcing his belief that he could only destroy the things he loved.

Taylor didn't say anything and he didn't need to. Skye knew she wasn't going to be a special case, she couldn't. He needed to judge her the same as he would anyone else, based solely on her actions. She lowered her eyes from him, twitching her mouth. "You haven't decided on my fate yet, have you?"

"It's not that simple," he told her, pained by his position that had already forced him to denounce one child. By miracle he'd had another chance at parenting, only to find her a stranger and in the same position as Lucas had been. The echoes of the past wouldn't leave him alone, they rippled through time.

"I've received some requests from… people wanting to see you," Taylor then changed the subject subtly, hoping she would leave at that for now.

"I don't want to see anyone," Skye frowned; her voice quivered a bit as she refused his kindness. She wasn't ready to see anyone, not Josh, not Tasha, not anyone. All the roads lead to Lucas, her reasoning for her actions was tied to him and sharing this secret would be too hard.

"Are you sure?" he had to ensure she knew what she was saying. He couldn't release her from her cell, not for awhile. The outrage wasn't that bad, but some people were very vocal about their opinions on how she should be punished. He had to treat her the same as Curran.

"I'm sure," Skye rolled her eyes, evading his question by folding her arms across her chest, feeling the chill creep up on her. "Are we done?" she asked a second later, sensing he was slipping away from the now.

Taylor however was contemplating on telling her, not able to go on with her in the dark, thinking horrible things of him. He wondered if she could understand the choices of a desperate man and forgive him when his own son couldn't. Seeing her look at him with such hatred before, yelling at him – it had really taken him back, he'd seen Lucas in her so clearly then. He couldn't afford to repeat the mistakes of the past, or she'd slip away too.

"My family was among the first settlers in Somalia. We'd fought a long bloody war for that land, and I was happy to see my son and wife again," he told her with a heavy heart. "However, the rebels learned where we were setting up, and they hit us back hard, killing most, but sparing few."

Skye sunk into his words, recalling the lessons she'd attended in school, the brief mentions of the war back in Somalia. It had been a bloody affair, something truly horrendous, a reminder of how humanity was capable of pure madness.

"I was one of their targets, a man with leverage and rank. So they spared my family and made me choose between the life of my son and my wife," He recalled with detachment, yet she could tell he was affected; his voice lacked its usual flow. Skye actually gasped when she realized where this was going.

"I tried everything, even offering them my life in their stead. But it was about a lesson, about power. Ayani, my wife, begged me to pick Lucas and Lucas demanded me to save his mother. Imagine that, a boy of only fourteen, ready to die for his parent," Taylor explained with disdain, voicing his memories in the light of the present.

"Of course, there was ever only one option. Saving Ayani would've damaged us both, I knew it then and I know it now. I couldn't let my son die, even if we didn't get along, I just couldn't. But to him it was betrayal, because he loved his mother more. And I could never replace her."

He didn't say any more, and he didn't have to. Skye listened numbly, Lucas' voice echoing in her head. It was the animal instinct to protect your offspring, your future, yet she couldn't imagine a worse position to be in. The choice had to haunt him, especially when it had torn Lucas apart so. She inched closer and then again, treading carefully until she was by the bars, fingers clasping onto them, eyes upon him patiently.

"It's not your fault," Skye said, hoping it would mean something, even a little.

Taylor noticed how the distance melted, how she reached out to him despite everything. He withdrew his hand from the bars, and stood in front of her, finally placing his hands on hers. "I failed my son," he confessed, truly believing it in all his heart.

Then his radio hissed, and a familiar voice called to him: Lieutenant Washington. "Sir, we have a situation at the gate," she called to him timidly, alerting him immediately.

"I'll be right there," Taylor promised, pulling away from Skye to speak to his radio.

"I need to go."

She nodded at him, understanding. They had all the time in the world now; Things had a genuine shot of getting better before they could get worse.

"Go," she prompted him, retreating back to her bed as he set off, leaving her alone again.

* * *

Taylor emerged from the brig, moving with haste towards the gates. He received his weapons back from the guard, merely snatching them wordlessly as he passed the guard by. In a minute he was already joined by soldiers, reports were spoken, but they didn't quite reach his mind. His thoughts were still with Skye, on the way she'd changed right before his eyes. The hardest part of their situation wasn't her betrayal, but the knowledge that she had grown into an extraordinary young woman, and she didn't deserve the harsh punishment that would befall her.

Washington walked up to him, her expression serious and hand already resting over her gun on her hips. "We have Sixers outside the gates, sir," she said promptly, succeeding in making him quicken his paste even more as they hurried onwards together.

"Since when? And what the hell do they want?" Taylor snapped, knowing this was no accident. They had to know he'd caught their spy. Mira would undoubtedly try something to fix this, some kind of maneuver she'd been saving for a special occasion.

"Apparently they want to talk to you," Washington explained warily, not knowing how to break it to him. The Sixer she'd been communicating with was none other than his son, Lucas, who seemed as dangerous and driven as ever.

They reached their destination finally, a full unit of soldiers reacting to Taylor's presence with a salute when they passed them by. Taylor ignored them and even Washington just gave them a quick nod, signaling them to reach for their weapons with her hand. Her breath got stuck in her throat some seconds later when Taylor came to an abrupt halt, upon noticing the man that stood between Terra Nova's gates and the crowd of Sixers in the distance – it was Lucas.

Taylor couldn't make out the details of his face at first, yet he recognized the clothes, the crooked posture and the silhouette. He had not seen his son for five years and during that time Lucas had grown into a man, but so much had remained the same. Suddenly Taylor was reminded of Mira's short report on Lucas some time back, when the two of them had had to join forces to stay alive in the merciless jungle. Mira had told him Lucas was doing fine, that he was well and capable of taking care of himself. Taylor hadn't fully believed her then, but he did now. The jungle had carved out the last bits of softness from his son, leaving behind something stronger, something hardened.

"He said he wants to talk to you," Washington filled in, having already tested the waters. Lucas had been calm and uninterested in her, patiently waiting for his father. She had found his new self quite disturbing, because the only thing that had held Lucas back in the day had been his impatient character. Now that it was gone, what was holding him back anymore?

"Fine," Taylor agreed, taking a step forward with some difficulty. "Have your guns fixed at them, I'm going in."

He started walking despite Washington's muffled reaction of shock, and he didn't stop even when she started giving out orders, assuming control as he walked into the serpent's nest. The walk wasn't that long; Lucas was waiting for him half-way, also armed and ready. Taylor had ample time to examine his son though: see the scars come into view, the tan, his unshaved face, the creases on his forehead and the weapons he carried.

Guns were fixed on them from both sides, Taylor's men by the gate and Lucas's backup that consisted of four vehicles and ten men. But neither was worried about being caught in the crossfire, they both knew the real danger was between the two of them. Disillusioned by his son's unexpected return, Taylor stopped at a small distance from Lucas, unsure what he was expected of. He chose to greet his son.

"It's good to see you son," Taylor said peacefully, noticing how his sincerity seemed to annoy Lucas rather than act as a peace gesture. Of course such was only to be expected of their reunion.

"I'm not here for that, old man," Lucas stated with arrogance rippling through his hostile voice. He held himself with confidence, withstanding his father's company with his goal in mind.

"What is it then?" Taylor asked, eyeing the Sixers in the background. He spotted Mira amidst them, sitting in the front seat of a rover. She was talking to someone, appearing almost displeased with the current turn of events.

Lucas snorted, barely containing his contempt. "I'm here to trade," he announced.

It surprised Taylor, he didn't think the Sixers could have anything he would want, his son non-withstanding. He was willing to listen though. "What could you possibly have that I would want?" he responded carefully.

Something flickered in Lucas' eyes, a tender glow. "You know by now that we have medicine for Sincyllic Fever," he explained casually, as if it was common knowledge all of the sudden. "Unfortunately it is not perfected, and we have a terminal patient, who needs it."

Taylor was filling the gaps himself, unsure how Lucas would benefit from this trade. It was certain that he couldn't outright refuse this chance though, as the disease was still one of the biggest causes of death in Terra Nova.

"You'll give us the medicine, and we will complete it for you?" Taylor questioned, watching as Lucas nodded slightly as response.

"And you will take Deborah Tate from our hands," Lucas then added sharply, "She isn't of any use to us anymore."

Confirmation of Skye's words came crashing at Taylor; he could barely hide how important this was to him, to know she wasn't lying. Something felt amiss here, however, Taylor could tell this wasn't everything.

"And?" he asked, raising a brow suspiciously.

Lucas smirked with sinister charm, then adding, "I would also want our girl back."

There was nothing tender about the way he spoke of Skye, and yet Taylor just knew Skye had been telling the truth about her relations with Lucas. He knew his son better than anyone, knew the little tells Lucas had. Right now Lucas appeared the same as before, but not quite. His gaze was restless; he had trouble keeping his eyes on his father. Taylor could tell Lucas was strained.

"What would you do with a spy, whose cover has been blown?" Taylor commented, as if he didn't know what this was about. Mockery bled into his voice, alerting Lucas slightly.

A moment later a knowing smile spread across his face and Lucas removed his hand from his pocket, chuckling lightly.

"So she told you?" he murmured with amusement, finding this turn of events unbelievable. He hadn't actually believed Skye could go through with it and knowing she had made him respect her more.

"How does it feel old man? Knowing she's mine and will always be?" Lucas questioned curiously. He spoke as if it was a competition between the two of them about whoever got to hold Skye's affection. Taylor noticed this immediately, and it troubled him further. He didn't see the chance of redemption in his son that Skye did. Perhaps it was all a game to Lucas?

"What if she doesn't want to?" Taylor countered harshly, catching onto Lucas' insecurity for a moment. He saw Lucas flinch, a nagging suspicion eating at him, and found it quite curious.

"We can always ask her," Lucas suggested viciously, brushing off his father's attempts to shake him.

Taylor sighed, unwilling to spar verbally with his son. Of course the decision would be Skye's, but he was sure she would say 'yes' when Lucas had placed her mother as bait. And Lucas obviously knew this as well, which only angered Taylor further. He took a step closer, tensing all around.

"I don't know what you've been telling that girl, but she deserves better, son, a hell of a lot better than you can offer," he whispered harshly, hoping no one else would hear them.

His words sunk into Lucas with precision, sharp and painful like bombshells. Lucas' grin turned grim, his lips twitched uncontrollably. His façade was shaking; the real him wanting to emerge to punch his father down, yet he recognized it would be an act of war and petty at that. He'd survived without his father's approval for five years, and he didn't need it now or so he tried to convince himself. Deep down Lucas had been waiting for his father to belittle him, to say he wasn't worthy of her, all the while hoping that maybe his father wouldn't go there, that maybe he could have this one good thing he could agree with his father about.

"There's no room for me in your perfect world, father," Lucas responded, his voice dripping with malice. "And by the looks of it, neither has she."

He knew what rope to pull, what words to pick to cause the most harm. His father's sense of justice was unwavering, and Skye had acted against it. So really in this case, Lucas was just making it easier for Taylor to do his duty. "Why not just give her back to me where she belongs?"

The charge between them was stronger now; it was emitting sparks.

"I'll agree to Deborah and the medicine," Taylor declared. "I'll even add some basic medical supplies," he then added.

Lucas waited for the rest, but his father remained silent and after awhile Lucas gritted his teeth in anger, sizzling with this rejection. "You want to keep your prisoner? Punish her for betraying you?" he spat out angrily, momentarily frightened with the prospect of Taylor actually harming her.

"Why would you keep her? She stabbed you in the back! Just give her to me!" Lucas then roared, breaking his calm before his father.

And this convinced Taylor that it was serious; he could see the need, the obsession in Lucas' eyes. Lucas clenched his hands into fists, barely keeping still. His smile became strained, his jaw tensed, his entire being looked alert all of the sudden. Overall he reminded Taylor more of an animal than a man, a grief-struck beast.

"Would you really let her mother suffer without treatment?" Taylor asked, testing the waters.

"If she dies, it's on you," Lucas responded gravely, his hands itching for the feel of steel in them. But he tried to remain civil, to keep himself in check. He recalled all too vividly how Mira had tried to argue him out of showing himself for this same reason, and breaking would only prove her point.

Lucas wasn't budging at all, Taylor realized to his disappointment, finding it strange how Lucas had come all this way to claim her even with his master plan being near complete. Taylor touched his pocket tentatively; remember that the hard drive was still there. He then pulled it out slowly, watching Lucas' eyes widen in anxiety, as he realized what his father was holding.

"I got this from Skye," Taylor said matter-of-factly, quickly getting rebuffed, "No, you didn't."

Lucas's denial came without pause, without a break for thought. He believed in her, knew she couldn't have handed it over, not when she knew what it meant. Taylor smiled, admitting, "No, I didn't."

He then dropped the drive by his feet and grabbed his gun, shooting the drive to pieces. Lucas staggered as the gun shot sounded, acting as if he'd been hit himself. Gladly their spectators saw Taylor's gun was pointed at the ground, even if this incident made everyone a bit more trigger-happy than before.

Lucas felt a piece of him fall off, as his father butchered his work – again – like it meant nothing. The shock hit him all over, really getting to him. He swallowed hard, his eyes darting at the man before him.

"Now you have no way back," Taylor explained, putting his gun back in its holster. "Do you still want her, son? Will you take her to the jungle to live like you have, like ghosts?" Bitterness was evident in his voice, his whole being. It wasn't just the fact that Lucas was the one taking her away; it was also the primitive protection he could offer her, the lack of medicine, decent accommodations, constant danger and the less than attractive company Lucas would place her in.

Taylor's bitterness only proved to Lucas he'd won though; it removed his anxiety, as he recognized Taylor was grasping at straws.

"I don't need that," Lucas said coldly, "But I need her."

He then turned around. "You have one hour. Bring her to us, or you'll be sorry."

TBC


	10. We can't go on like this

Voices in the corridor, arguing, sounded to her cell even through the door. She couldn't quite make out the words or details, but it was quite clear it was about her. Why else would they be here?

Ever since Taylor had left, she'd felt this strange premonition, a sensation that something was wrong. It hadn't been that long either, not even an hour, and already the fighting had been going on for several minutes. Uncertainty had a hold of her now, uncertainty that the universe was about to throw her life into freefall again just when she'd gained a foothold since the last fall.

She waited patiently for the noise to end, for the sparring voices to reach a decision that could change her life. Banishment was more and more on her mind as the most probable punishment. She knew it wasn't what Taylor wanted, yet it was certainly what was expected of him. He couldn't falter if the criminal happened to be a loved one, part of his family. He had to blindfold himself from those feelings, cut them off and treat her with justice.

There was a bang in the distance, and the door opened a moment later, bringing her face to face with Taylor. With one glance she could tell he wasn't happy, but terribly conflicted. Skye rose and walked to the bars to meet him, clemency and forgiveness already on her lips. She didn't want to part ways with hatred in her heart.

"What is it?" she asked patiently.

"I've been offered a trade," he revealed, trying to conceal his feelings on the matter, even as they shined through his demeanor clearly. "The Sixers want to give us the medicine and your mother in exchange for you."

By the Sixers he obviously meant Lucas, because he was the only one among them who'd want her after her days as a spy were over. Something swelled inside her, this information roused those feelings: the faith she'd held onto. He wanted her back even after everything.

"I…," she started with uncertainty, yet got cut off by her impatient guest. "Don't you dare throw yourself in the fire again for your mother! If you want to stay, then you stay," Taylor demanded.

His tone was definitely harsh as he urged her to think for herself, reminding her vividly of her mother. The mental image wasn't comforting; she realized Deborah's only shot was here at Terra Nova. Taylor saw this as blackmail, clearly thinking the worst of Lucas, whereas she realized this was a way for him to help her without losing face. He hid his well intentions behind the charade, refusing to run after her like a knight. Instead he bargained, showing himself to his father, risking everything.

"Do I have an option?" Skye asked curiously, seeing how reality reached Taylor again. Some hours ago he hadn't seen much light at the end of the tunnel for her.

"Nothing is set in stone, Skye. But if you leave with them, then you'll just be proving the rumors and slander true," he tried to get it to her head, knowing he couldn't help her once she walked outside those gates.

Skye considered his words for a second, biting her lip furiously whilst she contemplated her options. Leaving here would hurt like hell, like a piece being torn from her, yet she couldn't see a scenario less painful either. At least with them she'd be with him finally, and rest well with the knowledge that Taylor would keep her mother safe, nurse her back to health. She didn't want to think any further than that, because she didn't want to think of the part where being with the Sixers meant she'd be joining another side in this civil war.

"And if I can bring him around? Help end this struggle? Isn't it worth a shot?" she questioned him, faith strong with her ability to reach Lucas. She'd live with that faith or go down with it, depending on what life would throw at her.

Taylor didn't respond at first, he was stricken by her calmness, by her rational approach to this. He swallowed hard ready to accept the truth he hadn't wanted to voice. "If you go with him, you'll be choosing to side against Terra Nova. Do you understand that Skye?" he asked, hoping she would open her eyes for real. If she went with him, he could not ask anyone to spare her once the fighting started.

"I have no options!" she suddenly burst, snarling at him in her despair. "You can't even say if I'll ever get out of this cell should I stay. When the other option is being with him, being free, how can you ask me to stay?"

Her hands were clutching the bars, their cold surface digging into her flesh eagerly, spreading the numbness. She stared at him, waiting for his answer, some sort of acknowledgement that she was right and he was being unreasonable. It never came.

"Turn around," Taylor requested, defeat tangible in his voice. Her right hand grasped her left wrist gently, confusion visible on her face. Skye didn't follow his intentions immediately, but when she saw him hold out a pair of handcuffs, she understood. Her wrists were still bruised from yesterday, yet he asked her to submit to this treatment again.

"It's not exactly a secret that we have Sixers outside the gates," he then explained in shame. "I can't walk you outside without these."

She pushed the hesitation and shame aside and turned around, bringing her hands behind her back and backing up to the bars. He took her hands one by one, cuffing her as gently as possible, feeling how the act froze her still. A criminal, a prisoner, a Sixer being transported – that's all she was to them.

Once he was done, he opened the door and took her by her shoulder. They began their silent march outside, tension building with each step. Almost like the long walk towards execution and rebirth, Skye wondered, bowing down her head as they stepped outside.

The heat brushed against her, penetrating every layer of clothing she wore. Sunlight and sound brought the world alive around her. She was greeted by familiar faces, Washington and Elizabeth standing by the door, each paralyzed by the sight of her and Taylor. Had they argued against this? It seemed plausible to her.

Soldiers approached them and joined their walk, acting as escorts. They had an audience as well, heads turning to them where ever they walked. No one dared to make a sound though; it was clear this wasn't something anyone could protest. Shadows hung on Taylor's face, his usual confidence gone, replaced by shapeless melancholy. And so they walked all the way to the gates, all eyes upon them.

Skye spotted Josh in the crowd, holding hands with his little sister. Tasha was leaning onto Max, anguish all over her face. She tried to approach when she noticed Skye, but Max held her still, reminding her of the armed soldiers between them. Hunter stared at Skye intently, heartbreak all over him. Something about him made her look at him a bit longer than the others, and he recognized this too, mouthing to her, Stay strong.

They stopped at the gates, Taylor signaling a few more soldiers to walk up to him, while his hand slid down from Skye's shoulder, allowing her to stand still for a moment and just take everything in. He asked them to bring the stretchers, fetch Deborah once given permission. Skye's eyes wandered outside though, her gaze seeking for Lucas. She spotted him seconds later, speaking with the Sixers, nearly inseparable from their midst.

Taylor walked around her, speaking her name one more time, pleading silently for her to voice any doubts she had. He'd turn them right around with just one word, to the hell with the consequences, he promised. Skye simply nodded to him, accepting this and everything that would follow. Maybe it was better this way?

The crowd began buzz once they started to walk in unison towards the Sixers. A pair of soldiers followed, holding onto the stretchers. They had stripped their weapons and walked behind Skye and Taylor, keeping a close eye on Taylor's example. Skye's eyes were upon Lucas. She watched him react as he realized they were coming, how he stood different, looked different in an instant, acting almost thunderstruck.

Mira stepped out of the rover she'd been sitting in, stretching herself slightly and calling a few helpers as she opened the backseat door. Skye's eyes shifted to her immediately, upon realizing she was prepping her mother for transportation. Disappointment washed over her when she realized her mother wasn't even conscious. Taylor motioned for the soldiers to go to Mira, and they followed his instructions warily.

Lucas walked up to them, eyes cast on his father, downright ignoring Skye.

"You came to your senses," he commented to his father, refusing to look at the girl Taylor was still holding in his grasp.

Taylor's hand rested on Skye's shoulder, but the grip became tighter once Lucas made his move. Skye didn't like being a bargaining chip in their exchange, but saw no reason to start complaining. This was the wrong place and wrong time for that. She just wanted it to be over. Her eyes wandered back to her mother, observing as they lifted her to the stretcher and began carrying her away.

"You didn't leave us much of a choice," Taylor countered his son, referring to them as a unit rather than speaking just for himself. It irked Lucas so clearly, but he held his temper, glancing at Skye for the first time.

His expression softened. "I can imagine it must've been difficult," he said, still talking to his father, mocking him between the lines. He figured she'd jumped at this chance to be reunited, seeing how she'd been caught against her will. He couldn't afford to believe anything else really.

Taylor resented the way Lucas looked at her, like she was his possession being returned. He didn't realize it was show put up just for him, that Lucas fought his urges harder than ever.

"Hand over the medicine," he urged his son. Distrust screamed at him, begged him to proceed with caution.

Lucas shifted his gaze to his father again and dug up a small bag from his pocket, tossing it to his father carelessly. "And there you have it," he whispered with a deceivingly pleased tone, actually flashing his trademark grin at them.

Taylor caught the bag with a quick move. He held it inside his fist, feeling its contents with his fingers through the fabric. It appeared to hold some sort of powder inside.

Lucas then extended his hand to Skye, his eyes sliding to her. Sensing that she was being observed, Skye turned back to Lucas with uncertainty. She saw his hand and wanted to reach for it, but the cuffs were still on, digging into her bruises as she moved her hands, having forgotten all about her restraints. She winced in pain, biting her teeth together, realizing to her displease that his expression grew colder again at this display of pain.

Lucas looked straight at his father, his expression downright poisonous as he withdrew his hand. "Release her," he instructed, a threat included in his comment.

Taylor reached for the handcuffs and opened them slowly, while Skye burned between the two men. She didn't exist when they were in the same space, she just shrunk into nothingness. Everything needed to be forced; every action, every word was fought for. She swore they could've already been at each other's throats if the rules of the game didn't exclude that option.

Then the cuffs clicked open and Taylor's hand vanished from her shoulder. She was free.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Taylor whispered to her, before stepping back.

Skye was suddenly very aware of her standing, how she was between them. They both waited for her to move, each believing she would solve their issues, show who was right. It left a bad taste in her mouth.

But when Lucas extended his hand again, she reached for it. He closed her hand inside his, pulling her closer carefully, eyes already examining her condition, the bruises and cuts, with displease. After she reached his side, he turned his attention to his father again, his eyes holding a spark, perhaps a sign of gratitude.

"I'll be seeing you old man," he smiled with confidence, his final insinuation meant to dent his father's determination. It didn't really, but you couldn't blame Lucas for trying.

Taylor faced his opposition calmly. "Not if I find you first, son," he menaced before walking away.

Lucas didn't stay and watch his father go; he signaled his troops to leave as well, while Skye's eyes sought for the soldiers who were carrying her mother again. She realized to her disappointment that they had already reached Terra Nova, when Lucas threw his arm around her and guided her with him towards the rovers. He didn't say anything; even the way he held her was distant. She hadn't expected miracles, but maybe a warmer welcome at least?

He led her to one of the rovers, opening the door for her and helping her inside as he circled to the driver's seat himself. While she sat down, inhaling freedom with reserve, Lucas stopped at the door to exchange a few words with Mira. They spoke in hushed tones, more than aware that they were being watched. Then they agreed on something and parted ways. Lucas stepped inside afterwards.

He didn't say anything to Skye and she didn't call for him either. Skye just leaned against the door, head pressed to the window. Her wrists were aching again, and she didn't know what to expect from the future.

The hum of the engine alerted her to the start-up, and she realized they were the first car to leave. The others made sure they got away before joining them in a cavalcade of sorts. She waited for an intervention, a cataclysm that would prevent their leaving, yet none arrived. She hadn't obstructed the will of god with her actions, and Taylor hadn't been able to turn this into a victory. Sadly she accepted that everything was in her hands now.

The road was bumpy, and Lucas seemed focused on driving, judging by the way his hands grasped the wheel a bit too tight, and his lips remained sealed. The field vanished as they set off into the jungle, their speed picking up.

After several minutes of this silence, she just couldn't hold off speaking anymore, even if it meant she was the first to break. Skye turned to look at him, his tense form showing all the signs of irritation, of malaise.

"I didn't think you'd come," she told him honestly.

He tried to suppress his frown, keep up the angered front. "You thought wrong," he then corrected her; stealing a glance at the rearview mirror to make sure the others were still following.

Skye opened her mouth to comment, to ask, but nothing came out. She was left in silence, it embraced her willingly. No matter what she did, someone gave her this same treatment, this sick game of avoidance and silence. It had to be a Taylor-family special, probably fed to them with mother's milk, she thought with hurt.

* * *

They took an unexpected turn off the road some time later, which worried her. Skye turned to Lucas for answers but he remained tight-lipped even after she saw the other vehicles pass them by and continue down the road.

"Where are we going?" she asked with a frown, suddenly disliking being in the dark about his plans. She'd been willing to follow him, because she'd thought she knew where they were headed. Now she wasn't sure of much anything anymore.

"Does it matter?" he responded, avoiding her question, her face, everything about her.

"Of course it matters!" she snapped, moving closer to him on the seat, demanding to be heard. "Lucas what the hell!"

He glanced at her quickly, returning his eyes on the terrain almost immediately. "There's something we need to do first," he then explained boldly. His tone rubbed her just the wrong way, and she was about to express her vexation in a more outspoken manner, when he began to slow down and eventually halted the car.

Lucas released the wheel and pulled the handbrake switch, his eyes moving onto her next. "Get out," he said calmly, resting his hand on his knee, his other hand reaching for something on his belt. Her eyes followed his hand, her body frozen still, tension rising between them.

"Skye," he urged her in a gentler manner, "Go outside."

She grabbed the handle, yanking the door open with too much strength as she jumped out. Her throat was full of pain, everything felt backwards. Why was he acting like this!

Skye moved towards the front of the car, realizing they had arrived to a small waterfront. It was bright and hot, but cooler near the body of water. Lucas followed suit almost mechanically, hand grasping his knife. She didn't notice it though; her attention was focused on the beauty around them, the wild nature. And she breathed in the scents of nature like it was the first time.

When he reached her side, towering above her ominously, she didn't even want to face him. How had they wound up like this? Had it been her pride or his that sought to tear them apart?

"Skye," he called her, his voice getting a response from her body whether she wanted to or not. It had the ability to make her weak and strong, to anger her and throw her into arousal, but it also had the power to break her. She turned to him unwittingly, expecting for something terrible.

"Take off your shirt," he prompted her, recalling the last time he'd done so under very different circumstances. That memory rippled across her body as well, a fitting response gripped her insides, filling her with false anticipation.

She didn't ask why when she peeled the cardigan from her back and proceeded to pull her tank top over her head. Lucas watched intently, appreciating the sight despite her banged appearance. He assumed the worst, of course, thinking that she'd had to learn her lesson the hard way. It only made him grasp the handle of his knife harder.

"Turn around," he whispered, and she did what he wanted, staring at the clear blue waters ahead. She was biting her teeth together, mind in disarray, as he started to feel her skin with his fingers, moving across her back, pressing at her bruises. There were pain, flinching and gasps, but nothing made him stop. He progressed with precision, eventually finding a spot that was particularly tender and felt strange.

Lucas stopped, breathing in deep. He then laid his hand on her shoulder, taking hold, support. She braced herself silently, fisting hands, focusing on the butterflies and their colorful flight in the distance.

"I'm not going to lie Bucket," he told her, "This will hurt."

She accepted it, realizing only now that the spot was the same that Elizabeth had worked on. Skye closed her eyes when he cut her, a cry escaping her lips. It was followed by a series of involuntary movements, her body acting on its own, while he struggled to hold her still. She made more noise, trying to keep it down while he slit her skin open.

There was more blood than he'd expected. They had buried it deeper than he'd assumed. Lucas didn't give up though; no, he searched in spite of her pain, whimpers and squirming. After two long minutes he found the tracker, digging it out with the knife, and releasing her from his hold, as he stopped to examine the little chip on his hand. She pulled away, reaching for her backside with her hand, grimacing as her fingers were stained in blood almost immediately. A red trickle advanced down her backside.

Her cut was shallow, something they could fix back at the camp now that it was safe to proceed, but it didn't stop her sobbing frame from damaging him. Lucas buried that emotion deep, reluctant to show her that side of him for now.

Skye grabbed her cardigan from the hood of the car and pressed it against the wound, shooting blaming looks at him, at his detachment. Lucas simply responded by showing her the tracker in his hand, hoping to awaken her for good from her delusions that concerned his father.

She observed the small chip on his hand with disgust, watching how its metallic surface repelled her blood, all the while betraying their location to his enemies. Had this been Taylor's intention? Have Elizabeth trick her and implant that under her skin, and then snatch them all in the cover of night, ending everything in a swift surprise attack? Again she understood the tactic, but hated being the pawn.

"Fuck you! And fuck him!" she cursed loudly, trepidation spreading into her body as she pushed the cardigan sharply against the cut. Her curses only made Lucas smile though; he tossed the chip at the water bank, watched it sink with a blip. Then he moved next to her, his cold demeanor melting away.

She didn't ask him how he'd known or suspected. She didn't care. He'd gone at it the way insolent jerks did, commanding her around just because he could, instead of telling her why. When he tried to touch her, she moved from his reach, pulling her shirt back on and then her cardigan defiantly.

Lucas stared at her intently. Seeing her like this was spreading unease across his body, thrusting him into an emotional maelstrom. Of course he'd known what his father had planned, he knew the man all too well. And the worst part was he would've done the same himself with no doubt. She made him realize how twisted their game really was, how destructive.

"Are we going?" she asked, unwilling to decipher his moods or emotions. It was clear he was sulking at her like a child, holding a grudge when she'd just given up everything to come with him. Taylor had been right, she was off her goddamn mind, no clue what she was doing.

He sheathed his knife, after wiping its blade to the side of his cargo pants mutely. She stood at a distance, holding onto her shoulder with her hand, fingers grasping her hair nervously, like she'd been violated. He could tell she was deeply upset, and he let her be. He remembered his promise to Mira all too well: keep her at a distance.

"It had to be done, Bucket," he stated blankly. "Did you think breaking free would be easy?" A hint of malice snuck into his voice, he mocked her assumptions, her optimism. Skye wrapped her hands around herself tightly, hoping to shield herself.

"I expected you to at least try and a forgive me," she shot back. "Not stab me in the back – literally - like you actually enjoyed it."

Ah, but it was so difficult to cut the umbilical cord that had grown out of nowhere. He saw it tie her down, restrict her movement. She really was proving to be far less rebellious than he'd hoped, and it was a shame for he'd truly fallen in love with that unpredictable girl at the cliffs, who'd seduced him on whim.

"I forgive you," he said, meaning every word. "I'm just not ready to forget yet."

He couldn't surrender at the sight of her; lose his independence, his free mind just because she beckoned him. Lucas fought the impulses, the desires. She was a treacherous creature, something he hadn't fully understood when he'd given himself to her. He'd offered her everything and had it slammed right to his face. It wasn't something he could just brush away.

Her anger died a little at his words. She considered them and the conflicted emotions that were the source of these words. It was unrealistic to expect them to just go back where they'd left things. He'd lied to her, and she'd left him. His work was lost because of her, and she'd paid for that by giving up her home and family. Heavy casualties on both sides, and all for a strange love she couldn't explain or comprehend herself.

She took an awkward step towards him and then another. She watched him stir as she moved closer, unprepared for her change of mind. Skye stopped next to him, looked up to his face, how this expression was empty, like he wasn't her Lucas at all.

"Let's go home," she asked, slipping her hand into his with care. He didn't reject her touch, he allowed her to entangle their fingers and squeeze his hand. It felt right. Lucas had followed her hand with his eyes, but he returned them to her now. She looked at him tentatively, hoping he wouldn't say no.

He tugged at her hand acquiescently and they moved towards the car in unison. He was ready to lead her to a new life, a rebirth.

TBC


	11. A Place to Rest my Head

The Sixer camp appeared into view suddenly, startling her awake from her thoughts. The wound on her back wasn't hurting that much anymore; he'd helped her clean it the best he could and pressed some gauze against it before they'd taken off again. Interaction between them was still painfully self-conscious, but she'd accepted it would take some time. Now that they were back at the camp, her new home, she was glad to take a breather from him, for it might actually help her gather her thoughts.

Lucas parked the rover and exited without a word. She stayed behind, lingering for a few seconds, just staring at her hands. Stepping outside meant it was real – that all of this had really happened and Terra Nova was now in her past. She hadn't realized how difficult it was to take those few steps.

Then she realized he was opening her door, staring at her tentatively, waiting for her to come outside. Lucas wasn't on his most patient mood, but he extended his arm to her once the door was open. Skye took it and let him help her outside, immediately aware of the gazes they drew towards them. Some things apparently didn't change no matter where they went, she thought with amusement, longing for another perfect day with just the two of them and no spectators.

"Thanks," she mumbled at him, hand still in his grasp after she was fully on her feet and ready to go. Lucas held onto her hand, brushing his fingers against hers slightly, just enough pressure to make her blood rush faster. Then she slid her hand free from his hold with little resistance, and she was left feeling bewildered by that small contact.

"I'm taking you to a medic," he informed her.

"Probably a good idea," she replied, appreciating the gesture fully.

Who knew what else Elizabeth had done to her while she'd been captive? The thought just wouldn't leave her alone, even when she knew Elizabeth must've put up with a fight as they were deciding on using her for a spy without her knowledge. It felt wrong on all levels, but explained so much, like how little Taylor had resisted giving her over to Lucas. What Skye had assumed was respect and trust in her ability to make her own decisions had just been a ploy.

She took a tentative step past him, noticing from the corner of her eye how his mouth curved to a kind smile just as she was passing him. His arm snaked across her belly, bringing her to a halt. "The medic is this way," Lucas whispered, tilting his head at the opposite direction. Skye swallowed, his closeness being simply too much at this point, and she then backed away from him and turned around.

Lucas walked to her side and began guiding her towards their destination, hands in pockets, giving off nods of acknowledgement to the Sixers that passed them by. You couldn't tell from their walk that they were anything but friends, yet every gaze that lingered on her petite form for too long was met with hostility from Lucas. His head would turn sharply or his expression would shift just a little bit and make it clear she was under his protection. No one dared to bother them during their walk, although Skye couldn't quite figure why.

They reached a hut on the ground level, and Lucas pushed inside smugly, not even bothering to holler for response first. Skye followed him more warily, aware that she couldn't afford to start her new life here on bad first impressions. She bent over to fit from the low door, but realized then to her delight that the actual hut was tall and supported by wooden structure. It was also a lot roomier than it had looked from the outside.

They were greeted by a woman, who sat at the opposite end of the hut, legs neatly crossed over a small table. She was looking outside through the second exit the rear, observing the camp, and chewing on something. The hut was full of boxes, bottles and bags. There was an examination table in the middle and a set of handheld battery-powered lamps set next to it. Skye detected the scent of blood in their air almost instantly; it nearly knocked her back a bit with its intensity. Other scents mingled with it as well, vomit and excrement being the strongest, but gladly they were thin.

"Hicks," Lucas greeted the woman with a slight nod and was left waiting for a response. Their host didn't move though, her expression was sullen and Skye noticed she was holding onto a dirty bottle in her hands.

"Did you get the supplies?" the woman asked after a short pause, turning to Lucas and fixing her relaxed pose a little.

She was some years older than Lucas, probably closer to her thirties. Her light hair was cut in a short pixie style, her nose supported a visible arrow-shaped scar that faded to her cheekbones, and she appeared quite thin. She was clad in tribal clothing like the rest of them: fabrics that were clearly sown together from whatever materials were available, cracked leather combat boots and several necklaces of different lengths made of carved bone and string.

Lucas didn't appear lenient though, he seemed strict and impatient. "You have a patient. Fix her," he said coldly, making room for Skye, who had remained in his shadow, half visible to the woman. Now the medic shifted in her seat, leaning to her side to get a better look at Skye.

"What happened to you?" she asked from Skye almost conversationally, pushing aside her issues and lowering the bottle in her hand to the ground, as she stood up. She was about the same height as Skye was, but a stark opposite in almost every other way.

"Turns out I had a tracker on my back," Skye responded sarcastically, gaining a smile from the older woman.

Hicks glanced at Lucas carefully next, making a face when he didn't pick on her subtle invitation to leave. It took more than one roll of her eyes, shrug and sigh until Lucas realized what she was trying to accomplish.

He turned to Skye when he finally understood his cue to exit, whispering, "You're in good hands." Then he left unceremoniously.

Hicks watched him go, hands laid on her pelvis. After Lucas was gone, her eyes shifted to Skye, who felt strangely vulnerable now that she was alone. She put on a brave front though, refusing to fear these people.

"Ok, let's have a look," Hicks said with a smile and walked Skye to a stool with determination, motioning her to sit down. Skye followed the advice, sitting with a straight back and casting her eyes to the ground. It seemed a little too dim for an examination though, she thought.

Hicks walked a few steps back and opened a zipper on the canvas that was spread across the wooden structure. It revealed a see-through portion of the protective canvas that worked as a window and cast light on Skye. Realizing what Hicks was doing, Skye removed her cardigan and her shirt. She stopped to look at her blood stained clothes for a moment, thinking she hadn't even gotten to pack her things to bring a change of clothes with her.

Hicks moved to her backside, examining the cut in the light. The bleeding had stopped already, but it wasn't pretty by any standards. "This will probably leave a scar," she commented, grabbing a bottle of anesthetic and a clean rag, which she coated with the cleanser next.

Skye grimaced when Hicks started to clean the wound. Unlike Terra Nova, the Sixers didn't have the good stuff. Taylor always made sure they got the brand of anesthetic that stung, the gauze that was difficult to fasten or the painkillers that had uncomfortable side-effects. He believed little things like that were little bricks on a road to hell, that he could vex the Sixers until they broke. Thinking that now, Skye could see his reasoning.

Hicks worked swiftly, avoiding lingering, as she could tell their fearless leader was probably right outside, listening in, leaning against the doorframe. For some unexplained reason Lucas had taken a liking to this girl and made no effort in concealing it. It was the most interesting rumor at the camp as of late, and she'd heard more than she'd liked about it too. And their spy, little Skye Tate, would be staying with them from now on. Hicks didn't normally bother with politics, but she and every other Sixer had noticed the decision didn't sit well with everyone.

She placed a piece of gauze on the wound, fixing it still with tape and stepped back. "And that's all I'll do for now," she announced.

Then her eyes brushed against Skye's wrists, and worry took over. Hicks moved to face Skye, motioning her to extend her arms. Skye followed the instruction mutely after placing her clothes in her lap and straightened her arms into the light. Hicks checked her bruises, concluding that they were healing already, even if they looked uncomfortable. She didn't think it was a good idea to leave them like this though.

"Would you like me to put some bandages on them?" she asked matter-of-factly, realizing it hadn't even crossed Skye's mind. "I mean, there's the danger of you hurting them more. You don't seem like the type to stay still."

Hicks managed to convince Skye, and she agreed quickly, "Yeah, that's probably best."

In a moment Hicks was already bandaging her wrists gently but firmly, and she had to admit it felt good to look at her hands and not see a constant reminder of her short yet painful imprisonment.

Once Hicks was done, she was left watching as Skye sat on the stool stiffly, holding onto her clothes with insecurity. Her eyes swept across the bloodied attire, and she concluded the girl was unwilling to pull them back on.

"You know," she started and took a few steps towards the boxes behind them. "I might have some clothes that'll fit you, if you need a change."

Skye was surprised at the sudden act of kindness, having thought she'd be the last person the Sixers would welcome with open arms. She stood up, still holding onto her clothes with uncertainty.

Hicks searched for the boxes and found one eventually, which she pulled out. "These belonged to Allison. She was about your size, so they might fit," she chatted, offering the box.

Skye planted her clothes on the stool and took the box, opening it cautiously. It was full of neatly folded clothes that smelled somewhat clean. There was also a pair of boots in there, which had clearly seen their finest days years ago. Then her eyes caught some personal affects in there as well: some hand-crafted ornaments, a faded picture, a knife, a couple of terrans.

"What happened to her?" Skye asked, already knowing the answer before she heard it.

"She was shot at the gates a few months back, while escaping Terra Nova with some supplies. I tried to nurse her back to health on that table but the infection got her," Hicks explained somewhat numbly and pointed at the examination table near them. Sadness was visible in her blue eyes, even after she tried to shrug it off.

"Look, you're not going to get clothes that didn't belong to someone else first around here. We make due with what we have."

And Skye understood it perfectly; she didn't need to be told. "Thank you," she said sincerely and placed the box on the table. She then took out a worn tank top and pulled it on carefully.

Hicks returned to her seat and her bottle. She didn't drink from it though, just shifted it in her hands. "Take whatever you want, in fact, you should probably throw on whatever you find there. You're pretty distinguishable as it stands," she advised.

Skye considered her suggestion and decided it was worth a shot. She wriggled out of her pants and shoes, eager for this transformation. The pants she found in the box were tighter than hers, yet they hugged her thighs pleasantly. The boots were surprisingly a fit as well, reaching her calves and certainly offering more protection than her old sneakers. She could tell they had a fortified base, the kind that was designed to prevent injury from deceptive terrain, and she patted the boots against the ground with an approving smile. Lastly Skye picked up a dark vest that reminded her of Lieutenant Washington's usual attire. She pulled it on her, noticing it felt quite comfortable as well.

"Looks good on you," Hicks commented, reinforcing the feeling in Skye that this was a good step for her.

"Something is missing though," Hicks then frowned and got up, walking to the younger girl. She examined Skye for a moment, circling around her until she stopped and removed one of her necklaces. It had several small bones, like teeth, attached and they clicked against one another, making a pleasant sound. Skye bent her neck, bowing her head as Hicks placed the necklace around her neck.

Skye's eyes fixated on Hicks' scar when she lifted her head: its rugged surface and reddish color told her it was recent. She wondered if their medic had a story for this one and if it involved something as horrible as Lucas' scars did. Hicks stepped back though, noticing the scrutiny and wanting none of it.

"The kids like to make these and hand them out every now and then. It's become some of a tradition that you hand them out to people you owe, or want to show your gratitude to," Hicks explained, rolling her eyes at the absurdity of their strange habits. She brushed her dirty blonde hair from her eyes.

"Lucas doesn't have any," Skye noticed.

"He doesn't want any," Hicks corrected, remembering what a terrifying figure he was. She could think of a single soul other than Carter and Mira who even wanted to interact with the man willingly.

The revelation simply made Skye sad. She took hold of the necklace around her neck, feeling it with her fingers. "I haven't earned mine yet," she continued, feeling unworthy of this kindness.

Hicks snorted, actually breaking an honest smile. "He's actually acting tolerable now, and I think we all know why," she offered an explanation with a wink, and signaled Skye to leave with her head. "Come pick up the rest of the stuff later if you like."

Skye knew when to duck out of a situation; she at least could recognize that Lucas had interrupted something when he'd barged in, and that Hicks was eager to return to whatever it was. She turned to the door and walked out, leaving her old clothes on the stool, already forgetting the Skye Tate, who'd dressed in baggy clothes, wanted to be a soldier and charged fearlessly at any challenge.

She was surprised to see Lucas standing outside, clearly waiting for her even as he carried on a superficial conversation with one of the guards. This was a tall man, intimidating in his height, yet apparently more wary of Lucas than Lucas was of him. Skye walked to them, stopping at Lucas' side and answering to the guard's short evaluative gaze.

"What's going on?" she asked lightly, knowing Lucas would probably be the one to answer her. The guard still looked at her with mild suspicion.

"Just checking on a friend," Lucas replied softly, giving her a quick glance and then turning to her for real, once he registered she looked different. His eyes glided across her figure, appreciating the change, the attire.

"Make sure he doesn't leave without supervision," Lucas instructed the guard, but his attention was already elsewhere. Taking notice of the shift in Lucas' behavior their third wheel thought it wise to bow out of the situation; he just took off without a word. Not that either of them noticed.

"Making friends already?" Lucas asked after an extended moment of worship, his adoring eyes eventually fixating on her necklace. He moved his hand over it, lifting it slightly off her skin and then dropping it.

"I had blood all over my clothes," Skye responded calmly, unsure whether she'd heard a bit of jealousy in his voice. "You know from when you cut my back open?" she then added, crossing her arms across her chest.

Lucas didn't respond to her icy tone though, he accepted it as repercussions for his own actions. And his adoration didn't die so easily, it held onto him in the good and the bad.

"I'll have Mira talk to you about how we can put your skills to use," he said, shrugging off her earlier remark. "But before that I'd like you to get some rest."

Care shined through his voice. She wanted to ignore it and stay mad, yet found it difficult when all she wanted was to enjoy this time together now that they finally had it.

"No," she responded after a short moment of contemplation, "I think I'll get to know my new home. Make friends."

Her defiance wasn't unexpected. No, he'd assumed she'd turn him down. She was so driven when she found motivation, and right now it was fitting in, even when Lucas wanted to just hide her in his hut or some safe warm place where no one could harm her.

Skye realized she'd said just the wrong thing when his smile widened. Damn, it had been a trap.

"How about getting reacquainted with an old friend?" Lucas suggested, seemingly innocent. She knew he was full of crap though.

Skye narrowed her eyes, "Who?"

"We picked up another stray our father cast away some time ago: A soldier by the name of Curran. But you see I don't really trust him. Maybe he would open up to a fellow outcast such as you?" Lucas suggested, keeping an eye on her reactions, those small tells she had. Skye didn't react as bad as he'd thought though; she actually seemed to embrace this thought.

"Curran's here?" She asked in surprise. "I thought he would've been dead already…"

"I have some business to attend to and I can't bring you with me," Lucas said, putting emphasis on the fact that it wasn't in his power. "But maybe you can reconnect with him while I'm away?"

So the only skill she had in his eyes was spying? Did he really think she was good at only manipulation and treachery? But before Skye could say anything, Lucas pried her hand from her chest into his grip. He held onto her hand like it was something preciously, as he looked into her eyes, "It's not like I can ask anyone else."

He was being honest with her. Curran wasn't exactly blending in, and he would be suspicious if the Sixers started getting close all of the sudden. But Skye was a blast from the past, a girl who'd had a good reason to approach him despite everything. And she was good with people.

"Really?" Skye questioned him, yanking her hand free from his hold, "My options are taking a nap or spying for you?"

Lucas moved slightly closer, making her increasingly nervous. "I'm sure I can think of a third option too," he whispered charmingly. She obviously hadn't thought of the benefits of shacking up with him yet.

Her cheeks felt very flushed suddenly, and she realized all too well how the new set of clothes embraced her curves.

"Well, I'll want a weapon in that case," she quipped at him, catching him by surprise as it took him a moment to realize what she meant. "Curran is a convicted murderer, I'm not going near him unless I have something to protect myself with," she offered an explanation.

Lucas responded by pulling his gun from its holster and handing it to her. Skye took it right away, already feeling a bit better. There was no telling what would come at her in this place, and Lucas wouldn't always be there to protect her (it was no use denying that his presence didn't keep her from harm's way here). It didn't even occur to her that she'd been pretty alarmed by firearms until recently; her new life had already called for changes in her attitude.

"Hicks gave me some stuff I can use. Where should I haul them?" she asked him next.

Lucas hadn't honestly considered she'd ask him that, so his response came in an instant, "You know where my hut is."

"Do you want me there?" Skye doubted his declaration a bit, enough to make her voice this mistrust. After everything she wouldn't blame him for wanting some distance.

"I wouldn't let you go anywhere else," he vowed intensely. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind; that she could have a place of her own; that she could sleep somewhere else, separate from him.

It didn't sit well with him that she would question it, even under their current circumstances. Yet when he saw the relief his answer brought forth, his mind was put to rest for now.

Skye nodded at him weakly, reassured tenfold that he was intent on keeping her around. "Good," she simply said.

She noticed next that Mira was walking right towards them, and she alerted Lucas to her presence as well, getting him to back off and focus on more important and pressing matters. Mira reached them some seconds later. She greeted Skye in a warmer fashion than usually.

"Good to see you in good health, Skye," she said, catching the younger woman off-guard with her kindness. Skye was about to answer with a sharp retort, but Lucas chimed in before she had a chance, "It seems we got to her on time."

Lucas' eyes seemed to warn her against kicking the hornet's nest, so she abandoned her previous course of action and settled to stay silent. Skye was having trouble deciding whether Mira was really a decent human being underneath or playing games with her. She decided to observe some more before making a decision one way or the other.

Mira focused on Skye almost exclusively. She'd her change of clothes from a distance, struggling to recognize the girl at first. It made sense though, seeing her shed her skin and try and fit in. Mira was glad for small favors, as she'd feared the transition would be harder, and it would demand too much of Lucas' attention.

Her eyes hovered over the necklace Skye wore a few seconds before she connected with its owner again, still smiling as she spoke, "We're glad to have you, Skye."

The effort made Skye's skin crawl; she wasn't used to seeing this woman as anything but a threat.

"I hope I can earn my stay," she said, quick to defend herself before anyone would question her position. She wasn't a freeloader. She wouldn't attack Terra Nova or harm it in anyway, but she would earn her keep.

Lucas was there to offer his ideas immediately, "I'd rather if she wasn't involved in the violence."

Mira glanced at Lucas, reacting to his words with smugness. She had had no intention of putting Skye in that position. No, if it was up to her, she'd make sure Skye Tate was surrounded by Sixers as much as possible.

"There's always hunting, chores, watching the kids… and medic duty. Didn't you intern at the hospital?" she asked Skye, clearly already knowing the answer.

"I did," Skye admitted, wondering if she had the stomach to treat Sixers. At least the hospital back in Terra Nova had been clean and they'd had equipment and supplies. Hicks' hut had resembled a field hospital that had scrapped together whatever was at hand. She didn't know if she'd have the strength to work in such conditions.

"Medic it is," Mira concluded, gaining approval from Lucas as well. She didn't ask Skye, because she knew the girl; she wasn't going to oppose, for she liked to help people even at the expense of her own wellbeing. Hadn't that been how they'd gotten in this situation to begin with?

"Now," she continued, focusing on Lucas again, "I hope this won't interfere with our plans for tonight?"

Anyone could tell Mira was wired about their upcoming plans; it was all over her, that mix of worry and distaste. Lucas didn't show any of it though. He remained unmoved. "No, not in any way," Lucas assured. He had everything under control as usual.

Whereas Skye liked the sound of his plans less and less. "Look," she cut into their conversation, feeling awkward already, "Maybe it is better you discuss this without me. I'll be around."

Lucas didn't stop her when she moved away, as he knew she couldn't be around for this discussion. Even Mira simply acknowledged her words with a look. Skye didn't know where she was going, but she walked away as fast as she could anyway. She couldn't cling onto Lucas; she needed to carve out her own path, which meant going separate ways every now and then, learning, experiencing and hopefully becoming a part of this community.

Once she was out of view, Mira seemed to relax more.

"Do you have something for her to do while you're otherwise occupied?" she asked Lucas.

"She's got an assignment," Lucas explained, knowing already Skye would take the job.

"Good, because the last thing we need is our employer worrying about her," Mira continued, causing Lucas to stiffen a bit. He had to wonder if Mira would cause problems tonight, and apparently his worry was all over his face, for she rushed to her defense, "Look, I don't want any problems. As far as I'm concerned, we just fell a little behind on schedule."

She seemed sincere enough to Lucas, whose face gained a crueler dimension now. "My father is as ignorant as a child if he thinks I can't replicate the contents of that hard drive," he stated. Then he lifted his hand to his temple, pressing his index finger against it lightly. "It's all here, fervent to get out," he said with a grin.

Mira hoped it'd be enough, for she knew their employer was growing anxious for results. And tonight's meeting would be difficult, as they had once again slipped from their schedule. After five years even their faith in Lucas had to be growing thin.

"Let's hope it's enough," she sighed, feeling less and less convinced of the trustworthiness of company they kept.

TBC


	12. Complications

They stood in the hut in unison, a steady front that appeared impenetrable, yet was a simple illusion. Mira, Carter and Lucas each put in their best effort to project an image of efficiency, unwavering dedication. They all knew how much was riding on this meeting with their employer and how they didn't exactly have the best news to present. So when the question was asked, tension quickly crept into the air and held them all captive for a fleeting moment.

"Where are we with the calculations?" The pale hologram questioned them, his authority intact even in this grainy pixel form.

Sebastian Cross – the intermediate chosen to communicate between them and their employer – was intimidating close up, a ruthless figure that seemed to have the nose for weakness. He had a forgettable face, the kind that was usually connected to family men, trustworthy people. He had a chiseled jaw, dimples emerged when he smiled and his sand brown hair looked freshly cut. Neatly combed hair, a clean shave and youthful appearance helped him sell this image to others as well.

A man of civilization, of the future, should've appeared harmless next to the three survivors, these hunters. Yet standing there in his business suit, holding form as he addressed them, they could all see he was a tad edgier than normally, almost predatory. The company man was awake and watching them all, ready to jump at the slightest mistake. It didn't exactly make them any more confident.

Lucas stepped up, pushing back the emotions that sought for an opening, a crack in his façade to burst though. "We have a delay," he announced coolly, staring back at the hologram. He tried to keep his face unreadable, but something escaped him, perhaps residue from watching his father crush his hopes again.

"Nathaniel Taylor caught our spy at Terra Nova and with her the finished calculations. He destroyed the hard copy," he explained, his disdain very much present in his talk.

Mira and Carter didn't react; it was all agreed upon, a necessary precaution to protect them all. They knew their place all too well and had taken the time to harden themselves. Because no matter what they had no place showing weakness and disarray in front of this man.

Sebastian flinched visibly, his expression melting into disappointment. His hand brushed against his loose tie, a subconscious move, which showered how bothered this information made him. "How?" he asked. Excitement had drained from his voice; it was listless.

"It has been taken care of," Lucas assured, trying his best to appear charming and self-assured. The last thing he needed was anyone looking into the details of this screw up. "We need to focus on damage control instead," he then suggested.

"Lucas will need some time to get the calculations out and reconcile them," Mira stepped in to explain, acting like Lucas had her full support. She didn't bow her head before anyone, nor shiver as their associate's gaze fell on her. She faced it headstrong.

"How long?" Sebastian inquired, shifting his attention back to Lucas and almost ignoring Mira's noble save.

"At least a couple of weeks," Lucas threw in an estimate, knowing it wasn't an easy thing to take in. He was confident in his ability to duplicate his work at least now that he knew he'd been on the right track. All he needed was some peace and quiet, a place to gather his thoughts and a console to work with.

"I see…," Sebastian responded, disappearing in deep thought for a moment. "And Taylor knows about the plan now, doesn't he?"

"My father thinks he destroyed everything. He doesn't understand that he can't just take it from me, not that easily," Lucas barked with cruelness. It was always the same when he mentioned his father, it changed his entire act, brought forth a bitter, cold side of him.

"He'll be distracted by the arrival of the Eleventh Pilgrimage," Carter noted, speaking for the first time. He rarely contributed to these conferences, but saw the pressing need this time. He knew a lot was riding on this, including his future and Mira's. He knew Lucas didn't care how he destroyed his father, but their motivations were different; they fought for a future, a chance at something better.

There was something sinister in the way Sebastian took in Carter's comment, almost like he'd been hoping someone would mention the latest pilgrimage. He settled his hand in the pocket of his jacket at an angle that seemed awkward for his hand, whilst his confidence returned in the form of a crooked smile.

"Which is why I'll be sending you some back-up, some fresh blood if you may, along them," he informed them, catching all three off-guard.

They hadn't planned for it, which is why their reactions finally seemed convincing to their one man audience. Mira was nearly left gaping with her mouth open, Carter's easygoing pose was disrupted and Lucas dismissed his earlier submissive and charming attitude completely.

"Who?" Lucas asked, his voice ringing hollow, a sudden trace of uncertainty visible. Something was building at the base of his spine, a primal reaction to lay everything to waste around them.

"Your numbers are growing thin, and you clearly need some assistance in this task. I'm sending someone, who will help you get a clearer perspective, a new point of view to things," Sebastian explained fluently, clearly having given this some thought before-hand. He was convincing, good at spinning this like it was a gesture of caring, trust.

It was clear that he was talking about something else entirely though. Distrust, although mild, was taking root. Did he fear they were compromised, growing too accustomed to the stalemate they'd been in for the past three years? Or was it a hunch that they were all too suave in their talk, working together for an unseen goal?

Mira took control as she felt Lucas' patience wavering beside her. "Good, we can use the help," she assured diplomatically, whilst attempting to keep everyone still with the power of her mind. Surely they weren't sending soldiers, but replacements, she thought bitterly.

Their host greeted Mira's approval with a smug smile. "I will arrange for them to come through with the rest and then quietly part ways soon after. We will have another discussion after you have been properly acquainted."

"We will have better news by then," Lucas responded, slightly frustrated. He even smiled back, knowing the facades were useless. This was a vote of distrust, and he didn't take kindly to it.

"I would like to have a few words with Mira now. Alone," Sebastian requested, marking the cue for Lucas and Carter to leave. Both followed this request without a fight, exiting the hut and leaving Mira alone. She didn't mind as there was barely anything she couldn't handle.

"Now tell me the truth about this delay," he asked, feeling strangely distrusting of her colleagues, especially Lucas Taylor. The spoiled genius wasn't normally the type to cause trouble, as his hatred for his father tended to fuel him passionately. Not this time. This time Lucas had been almost agreeable.

Mira's eyes narrowed, she couldn't help it. She didn't particularly like this man, and even Lucas had been able to push himself up her list of dislikes lately, so the sudden sneakiness bothered her.

"They caught our spy. She had the calculations with her," Mira noted dryly, repeating the truths they had agreed upon. Lucas had insisted on sticking with the bare bones of the story, because everything around them was harmful slow-moving poison that would corrode them.

"Which means you no longer have eyes on the inside?" He looked at her with a concerned frown. Of course once their assets were threatened, it invited concern. Not when Mira had buried her people, delivered messages to their families, asked this man to arrange their business; no, that was meaningless when compared to the loss of potential profits.

"Yes, unfortunately so," she sighed, resting her hand on her hips, fatigue catching with her. It had been a long day to spend in dread of this moment, this interrogation.

Sebastian shifted, actually taking a few steps closer, which only made his image larger. "And in your estimation, could've Lucas prevented this?"He asked softly, appealing to her, searching for weakness.

"No," she responded without hesitation, knowing how fear would numb her tongue if she gave it room to grow.

He responded with a quiet nod, settling for this for now. Mira had been faithful; although he could tell something was going on, something he couldn't quite put his finger on, at least yet. Again, he fixed his tie.

"The man I'm sending will have to evaluate that. Do you understand?" He finally concluded with a meaningful stare. _Are you with us, or with him?_

"With perfect clarity," Mira responded. She watched him move out of view and then the hologram to die. It was only then that the hopelessness took root. They were not going to talk their way out of this one, she realized.

* * *

Lucas and Carter waited outside. Lucas had leaned over the rail, eyes upon the camp site. It was twilight already, and the noises from the jungle drowned the noises of the Sixers. He searched for her, wondering if she was done with her task already, if she was waiting. He couldn't help but stay away for now; this was a problem that needed to be dealt with or there would be consequences for all of them.

"How far do you think they'll go?" Carter asked curiously, grimness taking root in him.

They had had certain privileges here that he didn't think a new superior would tolerate. The operation resembled less and less a military force and more and more a tribe every day. There were kids around, and the adults were divided into warriors and workers in a hierarchy that had kept them alive. Mira had allowed this order of business, allowed them to mingle and develop comradeship, which sometimes went deeper than that.

"As far as it takes," Lucas responded, "As I would."

It didn't sit well with Carter. Being stuck here was bad enough without having someone else calling the shots, their only aim being profit. He'd worked hard with Mira to build this place from nothing. Terra Nova might've had shelter, fields, technology and the comforts of the future, but this was their home. He knew the clean air and lush forests had been confusing and frightening at first to many. They had overcome these fears though and learned to live here, respecting the nature that was long gone in 2149.

He also knew of the quiet whispers and what ifs that circled. What if we stayed? What if we didn't go back? How can you go back to the future after this, after knowing it's all gone?

It was a vacation, a beautiful dream that endured only because of their continued failures. They could rest here, knowing their issues were far off in the future. They could breathe easily, at least most of them. Mira was one of the few, who had a stake in the future, a goal that couldn't be bought or bribed, and that is why Carter respected her so.

"You'd go back?" Carter frowned, genuinely astonished with this conclusion. "Back to 2149? A dying world?"

Lucas found it strange that Carter was suddenly opening up to him, making questions, acting friendly. He straightened himself and turned to Mira's second in command equally surprised. What was so strange about desiring a better life in the future? Yet he stopped to think it through, a second being enough to remind him that he wasn't alone anymore. There was Skye to consider, their future together.

He could've bought himself a private resort that lacked nothing with the money they were paying him. It would've been enough to support them and their hypothetical offspring for a lifetime of wealth. But that painful sensation in his chest reminded him she would never leave. Skye wouldn't watch him burn Terra Nova to ashes, even when the past could save the future, and then come away with him. And suddenly he realized it startled him, forced him to rethink everything.

Carter was about to delve deeper into the question when Mira appeared at the doorway, cocking her head at them to re-enter. Both men gave up their conversation and proceed to follow her invitation as if nothing had happened. Once inside, Mira let the cloth that hung by the doorway fall down again to block the view to outsiders.

"We have a problem," she said without delay, her eyebrows knitting together.

Carter picked up on her tone immediately, alert and ready to be commanded. He trusted she knew what needed to be done. "Just say the word," he breathed huskily, almost too eager to act. He wasn't good with words, so he did the work whenever he could.

Lucas was rubbing his face with his hands. Tension was all over him, begging for attention. "He didn't buy it, did he?" he snorted, an urge to kick something already clawing at his insides. Mira shook her head and sat down disappointed, which prompted Lucas to kick the nearest object, a stool, in his rage.

"They're sending an operative, someone who will dig out the truth. And they will consider her a liability," Mira put her thoughts to words, her usual snarkiness gone, replaced by a bitter spell. She cast her eyes on Lucas, watched his heavy breathing, all those visible signs of duress.

"What are we going to do Lucas?" she asked honestly, slipping into her memories for a bit.

Your comrades abandoned you here to die. The question remains, what will you do?

Lucas had been crude and possessed a flaring temper even then, but to her surprise he'd picked her up, saved her life. She'd healed, returned to Terra Nova, claiming to have survived a terrible accident. And when the time had come, she'd made sure she was the one holding the cards for the Sixers, not the men who'd left her to die.

"How long until the pilgrimage?" Lucas countered Mira's words, counting days, hoping for time. It had been their plan to get the gate going both ways by then and return in the chaos, strike then and there. Lucas just couldn't keep up with the dates. Sunsets and sunrises melted into one, days became weeks. It wasn't something he could grasp, not when his work consumed his mind.

"Little less than a week," Carter responded, quite used to being the person who needed to remember these things. He eyed Mira from his eye corner, feeling uneasy about the shift in her behavior, about her worry. He knew she had a lot more at stake here and felt sorry for her. She seemed awfully quiet, as if weighing her options now, or looking back at something important.

"They'll consider us all a liability," Lucas noted with annoyance, truly alarming his companions. Her ran his hand through his unkempt hair, trying to tame it, to force it still, but it fought against his efforts and fell right back the way it'd been before – Just another part of him that refused to listen to sense nowadays.

Mira snorted, sounding suddenly just like herself, "But you're the only that can't be replaced."

She was looking right at Lucas, pricking him with her accusation to gain his attention. He didn't want to answer her, as much was readable from his guilty expression. Lucas hadn't truly considered the consequences of his own actions, of foolishly rushing after Skye.

"Trust me Mira," Lucas sighed, "I had just gotten used to you. I have no desire of tolerating yet another person, whose only goal is making my life more difficult."

Carter hid his grin, relieved to hear them go at it like they always did. It was a good sign.

"Good," Mira responded with exaggerated dislike, "Then maybe you can get your job done this time, before any of us get hurt."

Their mockery of a friendship was becoming almost endearing to watch.

* * *

At first she'd simply walked. The boots had felt good, supported her walking even when she was beginning to tire. She'd taken in everything she could, observed and recorded it in her mind, tried to reconcile the pieces in her memory. This wasn't the cruel camp of savages she was used to though; Skye couldn't understand how something could be so different in different circumstances. The change baffled her; she began to consider that perhaps it was simply herself that was changing, not the Sixers.

She walked in on a group that was hauling supplies across the camp and offered to help. Despite her reputation and age the easy tasks always needed a helper. And two minutes later she knew all their names, and felt that muffled sensation in her chest ease up a little. Strangers became acquaintances in the hours she circled amongst them, talking, working and trying her best to understand.

So what's your story? A simple phrase became something she would use to open conversation, to ease them into spending time with her. After a couple of stories, she started having trouble remembering – not that they all even agreed to talk to her but some did. The circumstances varied, but the essence remained the same: terrible fates, desperation, and poverty. People were driven here with a promise of a new life, a second chance they had no way of obtaining without signing up for the company's payroll. None of them mentioned it by name, of course. They sought to protect their benefactor, and she understood why.

Once her wandering started to take its toll, she took a break to get the rest of her things from Hicks. Skye also took the chance to inform the medic of Mira's earlier words and realized Hicks wasn't opposed to the idea. It helped empower her, give her a feeling things were going to work out. And when Skye popped into Lucas' hut a little later, noticing it was empty, she felt like she could stay there, learn to live with this. She left the clothes to a corner, organized them to a neat pile before she took off again.

* * *

As the evening darkened, she found herself wandering at ground level, searching. Most of the Sixers had retreated inside their huts except for the guards and the occasional wanderers like her. Skye followed her instincts, absorbing the scenery that already looked more threatening in the black, and she found herself drawn to a camp fire by the outskirts of the camp.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, trying to wave to the person sitting by the fire alone. He didn't react to her at first, but eventually he tore his eyes from the fire, rising up. Skye stopped right on her tracks, like something had just slammed against her. Her cheerfulness was traded with bewilderment; her hands were looking for something to hold onto, eventually settling on her waist.

"Hey Skye," the man greeted her, his face lit only by the orange hue of the flames. He appeared friendly, despite the fact that they had never been friends.

"Curran," Skye finally spoke, glancing around her to ensure they were alone, as she walked closer to him. Furrows gathered at her forehead, everything about her betraying nervousness. "I didn't expect to find you here."

He saw a girl, someone branded traitor just as he had been. A charming young woman, who'd always joked with the soldiers, went along in their parties, breathing new life into the tired charades. Learning she'd been a spy had been a small shock, something he hadn't truly had a chance to deal with yet. The rumors around the camp were quite ugly; he'd had trouble believing everything and still did even with her standing right in front of him.

"Look who's talking," he grinned at her, surprising her with the honestly warm welcome.

It was working, Skye deduced, keeping up her act. She was good at this, no use pretending it wasn't so. She'd asked for directions earlier, a hint of where she might find him. All it had taken was some walking around and a suitable chance to walk up to him like it was one big accident. And when the target was someone like Curran – a remorseless killer – she didn't even feel as bad about it.

Skye let out a giggle, felt it bubble in her throat, a reminder of the honest laughter she'd once had. Curran couldn't tell the difference, and neither had her friends, but she suspected Lucas would've known.

He laughed with her, this awkward moment stretching between the two outcasts.

"I can't believe he just banished you like that," Skye finally said, feigning support.

She saw her words sink into him, how she got him to straighten a bit, bask in this unexpected solidarity. She remembered all too well what he was like: arrogant, easily maneuvered, self-important, good at telling stories of his feats, impressionable. Curran was the worst kind of soldier, the kind that was too hung on his own survival. He would never jump in to save someone else at his own expense: Her stark opposite.

"Well, Taylor did what he thought was best," Curran responded, sounding a little too okay with it.

"Really? You're ok with being forced here? With the Sixers?" she made a face of disbelief, lowering her voice. By now she was on the other side of the camp fire, enjoying the warmth on her face. The fire remained between them, giving her at least some distance, a measure of safety.

Curran responded by casting a gaze on her. He eyed her from head to toe before answering, "You don't seem to mind."

Skye had to keep herself from drawing in a deep breath. She'd hoped he'd be too absorbed by flattery, a sign of interest, to question her motives. Of course it had been unrealistic to think such. She pressed her lips together, scratching her arm a bit self-consciously. Her eyes avoided him.

"I didn't have much of a chance. I mean my mom wasn't going to make it, and Taylor wasn't going to let me stay. I didn't want to die in the jungle alone," she explained, forcing down a fake sob, which he obviously caught, his hand raising to calm her down. Curran's face softened at the sight of her weakness, just like she'd expected.

"It's ok, Skye, I get it," he said, in an understanding manner. "We have a lot in common. We've both made mistakes."

The only difference was, she hadn't done any of it for herself. She'd done what she had to for others, to save lives. He'd just wanted to wriggle out of his debts by killing a friend - all over a god damn card game.

"Well, it's good to see you're alright," she nodded back at him, preparing to retreat just as he took some steps closer, halting her leaving. Skye glanced at him questioningly, a mask of innocence and inexperience projected on her face.

"I heard you're with Lucas Taylor," he tested the waters, speaking Lucas' name like it was something revered and vile at the same time. He didn't know how to feel about the man, but he knew he couldn't stomach the idea of Skye being with someone like him. With the whispers of this man, his temperament, his grudging attentions, going around Curran worried over her.

Her first impulse was to say it like it was, rub the details in Curran's face, and crush any hope he might have of them being friends here. Then she remembered the mission, set her eyes on the goal again. Skye shrugged as if uncomfortable with Curran's inclination.

"He's kinda like a brother to me," she told him. "We're both Taylor's unwanted children, if you know what I mean?"

And she looked at him with clear eyes, no doubt in sight. To accuse her of lying wouldn't have crossed his mind; even as she struggled internally, none of it was reflected externally. Curran found himself smiling again at her, manipulated into a false sense of connecting, which was exactly what she wanted him to feel.

"I thought…," he smiled, shrugging off his suspicions. "That's not what they're saying," he then explained.

"Lucas is very protective, but a complete gentleman. You have nothing to worry about," she assured him, keeping a light conversational tone, even when her voice wanted to betray her. Just saying his name was overwhelming, and when she couldn't say it with the appreciation she felt, it was worse.

Curran's eyes were set over her shoulder though, which piqued Skye's interest as well and she turned around, praying for something to free her from this. She needed to prepare a little more, to practice and find her confidence. It's not like she was winning his trust with one talk, one visit. It had to be a gradual process. She realized it was Carter looking at him from a distance, his whole stance speaking a warning. It wasn't entirely clear which one of them the warning was aimed at though.

"Sorry I…," Skye's voice trailed off for a bit, "I'm really exhausted."

He nodded at her with patience, apprehension. "Of course. You know I'm not going anywhere."

Yes, she was painfully aware of what she was getting herself into. The Sixers were shunning him, even if they'd taken him in. No wonder he was jumping at the chance of being her friend.

"I'm around if you want to remember old times, or just need to get away for a moment," he offered sincerely.

For a moment there, Skye could see signs of the Curran she'd once known, his gentler side. He was still handsome albeit covered in dirt and unshaven. Too bad she knew a few months in the jungle weren't changing him for what he was inside: a coward and a liar.

"I'll keep that in mind," she winked at him and took off a little too quick, settling to make it look like she was trying to reach Carter before he walked away. Curran watched her go, eyes clashing with Carter's before the older Sixer turned his attention to Skye.

Skye stopped when she reached Carter, exhaling loudly, feeling the act escape her lungs in that violent action.

"Be careful with that one," Carter told her, his voice direct, a little strung. He didn't say anything else just went about his business and left her standing there. Skye didn't need to be reminded, albeit Carter's worry was appreciated.

She pushed everything off her mind: Carter's warning, Curran's attempts at being friendly, and just went on. She carried onwards to the rope lift, yanked at the rope and got pulled up a moment later. This time she actually enjoyed the short feel of weightlessness, and thought of thanking the guards that lifted her once she got up. Her legs walked her towards Lucas' – no, their – hut like she was programmed or on auto-pilot.

And that nervousness returned, settling in her stomach. The fearless girl feared seeing her lover more than talking to murderers, confessing her sins or familiarizing herself with strangers. How absurd.

She saw the faint light of his lantern pushing outside from the doorway. It confirmed her suspicion that he was home. She pulled the covers away from the door, stepping inside boldly. To her amazement he'd actually cleaned. The papers all over were gone, piled neatly over his desk. Lucas was sitting by it, deep in thought, writing something.

"How did it go?" he asked her, seemingly uncaring. "It was ok," she said, hiding the details. Her lies could hurt him, and she didn't wish for that, not now.

"And your meeting?" she inquired in return, closing in on him. "It was interesting," he replied with equal evasiveness. She didn't need to know about the complications, about the danger lurking ahead, at least not yet.

She brushed his shoulder with her fingers tentatively, seeking for permission to come close, feeling the sadness when he didn't seem to react to her the way he should've. Every little touch was electric, made fire run across her body. Couldn't he at least recognize that?

Lucas rose, leaving his work for the night and facing her. "Are you sure you're up to this?" he asked her with genuine concern, remembering past mistakes. He was haunted by them, by his blindness.

"You mean Curran?" she confirmed. "He's an asshole, but I suppose I can tolerate him." She then quipped, surprising him with her harsh commentary. Lucas actually responded with a snort, finding her contempt for her target a consolation.

Skye felt amazingly aware of his gaze, the way the silence landed and hung pregnant in the air, filled with promise. If he'd ignored her touch before, he was certainly feeling what she was now. She didn't know how she could be in the same room with him when there was so much left unsaid. Skye wasn't the type of person who could ignore pebble in her shoe, just brush away the irritation and pain, but for him she could try.

"Lucas," she spoke his name softly, exposing her intentions, her desire. He responded to the invitation in primal manner, such simple words pulling him asunder; all the yearning that had kept him sane whilst they'd been apart came crashing back, and was denied the same moment. This was not a good time for this, for clouding his senses. He needed to think of a way to keep them afloat in these deceptive waters.

Lucas moved, escaping her side. "You need rest, Bucket," he told her sweetly.

Her mind argued against these niceties though; it wasn't what she needed at all. He didn't quite get what happened, when she grabbed hold of his shirt, forcing him still next. Her hands were clasped around the fabric, her grip straining, as she claimed his eyes with hers.

"I'm so sick of this," she whispered weakly, alarming him.

"Can't we just skip the apologies and admit we both did wrong? Can't we just get to the part where you kiss me when you want to and don't hold back?"

TBC


	13. Fuel for the Fire

"Can't we just skip the apologies and admit we both did wrong? Can't we just get to the part where you kiss me when you want to and don't hold back?"

She'd worded it better in her head; in the countless speeches she'd made wordlessly her voice hadn't shivered, her hands hadn't kept him in place. She had sounded strong and loving, not like someone who couldn't even keep herself from falling apart. There wasn't quite any reason that justified her request, and she knew those phases were important for the bigger picture. Still she needed him more than forced assurances, especially since the scale was pretty much balanced according to her calculations: Equally guilty, equally hurting, and equally yearning.

Lucas hadn't expected something like this from her, this banged girl who was so obviously mad at him, at his father, at all of them. He knew she was not alright with the lies, with the actions they'd taken to get here, just as he wasn't. That day they'd met had been perfect, nothing had weighted them down. Whereas reality was harsh, it gave them no shelter, no room to breathe between hits.

Actions had consequences, betrayal needed to be punished – or so his mind told him. He tried to find that man inside him, who'd been so entangled with her that he didn't care who she was or what she stood for. All he could find was the man, who held onto petty disputes, took any excuse to blow off some steam, and hid the painful things behind a façade.

He wanted to hate her, but couldn't – not when she was everything he hadn't known he needed. Lucas tried to brush the shame and agony aside for her, as he knew he was the reason she'd been banished from her home, from her family. She didn't deserve misery with him, when she'd followed the wrong path just to catch up with him.

His hands rose to her hands, which were still clasping the front of his shirt and holding him in place. He cleared his mind from the negative and focused on her fragile expression, seeing so clearly how she held onto hope. He removed her hands gently, brushing his fingers over her skin, that simple touch causing her grip to relent and her hands to fall over his chest.

She nibbled her lower lip nervously, feeling her failure. She lowered her gaze, not quite able to keep back her disappointment. Then she realized he was pushing closer to her, her hands were folding more and more, inch by inch. Looking up again wary and fearful, she recognized his mood in an instant. He tried to push back his anger, yet it remained clear in his intense eyes, that lustful glare.

"Is that all you want?" he growled smoothly, his hands finding their way around her, quickly caging her in his embrace. "Intimacy but not openness?"

Oh, she could tell she'd hit him hard, harder than she'd even expected. Their little scene by the waterfront, all that coldness, the cruel way he'd introduced her to the reality of being nothing but a ploy to Taylor, it had just been foreplay, a little teaser of his resentment. Something foreign moved inside her as she watched him slowly bring her closer, lips approaching hers. His movement was predatory: both playful and a little dangerous.

And she liked this glimpse, this darkness. Suddenly she wasn't afraid of being hurt anymore.

"This is just the way I want it," she told him, thinking that tenderness would've been the lie. She would rather embrace this dispute, this flicker of honesty. Skye pushed her lips against his before he could answer, claiming the rest of his sanity. It plunged them both into madness.

Everything hurt and felt ecstatic at the same time. His grip was too tight when he framed her face and her nails prickled his chest through the fabric once she grasped him again. He kissed her forcefully, finding pleasure in her flinching, each muffled wince. He knew he shouldn't have; he'd yearned to be a stronger man, a better man for her, but he really wasn't.

Her hands snaked up his neck, fingers curling violently into his hair. The six months she'd dreamed of being in his arms again were erased, tender dreams forgotten and replaced by this brutal encounter. It didn't take him long to feel the restraint of his pants against his erection; it pressed against her stomach, made her want to inhale, retreat.

"I should've come for you earlier," he confessed when her lips began trailing his jawbone, finding that lovely spot between his jaw and shoulder where his scars were located.

"Not a word," she hissed, unwilling to hear it now. This wasn't about that, it wasn't about the painful reconciliation they'd have to go through. It was about seeing who they really were, how far they were really willing to go.

Lucas couldn't help grunting as her body squirmed against him, each touch against his arousal like adding fuel to the fire. He glanced down at her, practically seeing inside her shirt as she was kissing his neck, her tongue licking his skin, the sweat. He couldn't quite help feeling that she'd lured him into a trap, that whatever issues they had between them were small in comparison to the fear he'd never get to feel this way with her again. His neck tensed, rippling pain across his body when she bit him.

He tore her away from him with a jerk after landing his steady hands on her shoulders. His eyes were upon her, humiliation and exhilaration pushing him to action. He didn't know how she did it, but her actions were pushing him towards freefall, towards forgetting, and damn he wanted to tell her off, ask her to stop and be her sweet self again. She responded to his stare, his forceful gesture, by lifting her chin defiantly.

"Clothes," she demanded, her ragged breath nearly stealing her voice. And despite his attempts to gain control – because he never lost control even when he lost his temper – her will was stronger than his.

First only one hand retreated, then the other, and soon he was removing his clothes. Skye followed suit, leaned over to pull off her boots, threw away her shirt, wriggled out of her pants. Sweat pearled on her, especially gathered over her bosom. She stood up again, pushed her wayward hair off her face. She was wearing nothing but her underwear at that point, and she noticed he was already fully naked.

He didn't ask her anything else after that – the point of no return had passed, and he'd given up.

Lucas took hold of her hips, pushing against her to her bewilderment. He unclasped her bra with just one hand, kissing the edge of her jaw as he did it. His hand found its way to her shoulder, pushing down the shoulder strap there, and then moving to the other side. The bra fell off; he pushed them towards the bed for a few steps, leaving her almost fumbling in the dim light as she wasn't familiar with the layout of his hut.

His forehead was throbbing, everything focused on the bruise there. It was darker now, less sensitive, but very much sore nevertheless. She was shining in his arms, dizzy from his affection, satisfied with the way he tried to take charge. A bittersweet smile on her lips, eyes drowning in his. She held onto his upper arms, body pressed against his, while he hesitated, not knowing the steps to this dance.

"Bed," she told him softly but defiantly, and he tossed her down, the soft surface breaking her abrupt fall. She pulled away her remaining underwear while he watched, having forgotten how beautiful she looked even she was covered in bruises and scars.

This was different from her dreams, her fantasies. He'd always been kind to her, until she'd realized it was a side he only showed her. Watching him trade with his father, showing a different face altogether, she'd understood what a small flame that side of him was, a flicker in the dark.

He kneeled on the edge of the bed, creeping over her on his knees and hands. She held her breath, watched him advanced until he was upon her, and she brought her hands to his cheeks. The soft fabric of her bandages rubbed his face, made him aware of her wounded wrists again. He'd neatly ignored the bandage on her back as well, a painful reminder of how cruel he could be when he wanted. He didn't want her kindness, so he pulled his face back, out of her reach. As she frowned, he smirked and leaned in to kiss the valley between her breasts.

Then he pulled her hands together, clasping them over her head. She didn't resist, just accepted everything, anticipation all over her face. "C'mon," she whispered her brave invitation, and he followed through, entering her.

It was torture, how he moved inside her: slow, sweet torture. He tried to hold her hands still as gently as possible despite the way her body rocked beneath him, yet found it impossible. So his hand slid onto one hand, fingers twining with hers, one hand released from his grip. She didn't take it away though, no, she slid it under the hand he held, the pressure holding it still.

He didn't caress her, he didn't whisper promises in her ear or act particularly lovingly. She didn't mind, her eyes fluttered open and closed, the maddening motion felt heavenly. He leaned against his hand, also putting small weight on the hand that had captured hers. Lucas watched her intently, observing her reactions, how her eyebrows knit together with ecstasy. She struggled, began to push into his thrusts, eyes rolling and closing. She stared at the ceiling when they were open.

Everything was aflame; heat burned her skin, sweat dribbling from his body to hers. They were silent this time, each moan and grunt was muffled, contained. Even if this was home, their actions weren't meant for anyone else's ears. She shifted her pelvis, the new angle intensifying the pleasure. He felt her crush his hand as she came undone, eyes flying open, drilling into him. And for a moment there, she had her oblivion.

He quickened his movement once he recognized her surrender, reaching his peak a little while later. Lassitude entered his body, relaxed his muscles, demanding him to rest. He pulled away, standing up to blow out the light in the lantern. The last thing he saw though was her wiping away tears from her cheeks as discreetly as possible. Lucas blew the fire out and returned to the bed, this time lying by her side, spooning her as she turned away from him.

Skye had pulled the blanket on her, buried herself in its softness and warmth. Her wrists were aching now, though they hadn't while they'd made love. Her cheeks were still wet, even if had been just a few lousy tears (over being so overwhelmed by the experience). Everything about her felt new, different. She didn't know if the change was good or bad, but she embraced it anyway.

He adjusted himself, pulling her into his arms before she noticed. Skye turned just a bit, suddenly finding her ear on his chest, listening to his raging heartbeat. Lucas pressed his lips on her temple, one arm beneath her.

"I should've come for you earlier," he repeated his earlier words she'd cut off. "I should've stopped you before you left me," he confessed, bringing tears back into her eyes. "I never thought you'd leave me."

"I'm here now, Lucas," Skye said, a tinge of sadness in her voice.

"Don't betray me again," he pleaded rather than told her, which in itself reminded her of the reasons she was in love with him.

"I won't," she promised, hoping he wouldn't put her in a situation where she had to choose again.

She drifted to sleep soon after, but Lucas lay awake for awhile, holding onto her under the foolish fear that she might disappear again if he closed his eyes.

* * *

The morning breeze pushed against the tense canvas of their hut. It was gentle, warm and inviting. Lucas' eyes struggled to open despite the bliss that overwhelmed his senses. They had drifted during the night, shifted countless times, yet remained entangled despite it. He was still spooning her but Skye was almost cradled to a ball with Lucas and the blanket protecting her from outside threats.

He smiled against her, taking his time to recover from sleep. It felt so good to be like this. Yet the morning sun crept into the hut between the cracks, it alerted him to the dawn of a new day. He could even make out distinct noises in the distance, signs that the camp was beginning to wake.

Lucas withdrew his hand from her waist carefully, pulling away in a manner that would disturb her sleep the least. She pretended to be tough, to be alright, yet he knew better. She needed some sleep, some time to mend her bruises, both emotional and physical. If he could fool her into sleeping just a little bit longer, she'd have that serenity.

He dressed himself lazily, eyes wandering over to her during the small breaks between different garments. Clad in pants and a sleeveless shirt he searched for his papers, piled them and bound with a piece of string before he stuffed them inside his satchel. Skye stirred at this point, her brain slowly coming to terms with the fact that she was alone. Her hand reached from him blindly, catching his attention right away. Lucas walked up to the bed and kneeled, taking her hand in his.

"Morning Bucket," he whispered, attempting to pacify her dreamy distress.

Her eyes were open in an instant and she tried to move, stung by the resistance of her weary muscles. Skye gave up almost immediately, settling to turn her face to Lucas. "Everything hurts," she whined, although her voice had playfulness in it. A moment later he caught her smiling a sly smile, as she tugged his arm, beckoning him to approach her.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Lucas apologized self-consciously, ashamed of how roughly he'd treated her.

"Yes you did," she responded. There was no accusation in her words though; she'd invited the heavy handling and enjoyed it. She'd rather he unravel with her like this than through more nefarious means if he was angry.

"And I didn't tell you to stop, did I?" she then questioned, already knowing he couldn't argue with her reasoning.

Skye grabbed the blanket that shielded her nakedness and pulled it away from her whilst slipping her hand away from his. The yank felt uncomfortable for a moment, but it passed. She then started to move her aching body up to a sitting position. Every muscle complained at first, discontent with the labor she was putting them into. Lucas watched her efforts almost frozen, desire bubbling inside him again.

Eventually she made it to the edge of the bed and managed to get on her two feet with Lucas' support. A satisfied expression spread across her face, even the cool air felt better than a moment ago. Then she was suddenly being moved like a mannequin, as Lucas lifted her arms up and pulled a shirt over her head. It was baggy, clearly one of his, but it served its purpose, which was covering her.

Skye shot him with a questioning look as she ran her hands across the fabric, adjusting the shirt to fit her petite form better. She rolled up the sleeves next.

"You were damaging my calm," Lucas explained with a wink.

She frowned at his answer, seduction creeping into her voice, "I am? Do you need to be calm?"

Lucas tensed at bit upon hearing her voice, seeing the way she teased him. It was an instant flashback into last night, the way she'd taken charge and helped him deal with the impulses he'd wanted to bury.

"I need to be focused," he told her, sounding a bit colder than usual. Then he glanced at his satchel on the desk, alerting her to its presence. She knew what was inside.

"Calculations?" Skye confirmed.

She had to wonder if they would ever stop hanging between them. He coped with things by embracing numbers, simple safe truths, because humans were too complex, too messy for him to handle.

"Is that a problem?" Lucas asked her now, confronting her. He wouldn't stop working on the portal, and if she wanted to stand in his way… He didn't want to think about it. The last time he'd trusted her with it, she'd ruined everything. If she was going to stand in his way in this, he needed to know.

Skye's answer lingered. Saying 'yes' would've just led to her ruining her day and his. If Lucas had to start all over, she had time. Time to show him he was wrong; that he was opening Pandora's Box and unleashing evil into paradise.

"No," she finally said.

Lucas sighed in relief, not having realized he'd been holding his breath so violently. At least something was easy, something remained that she didn't want to tear apart for now. His gaze fell and he caught a glimpse of her bare legs, remembered what it felt like when she straddled him, the ecstasy that followed.

He stepped away from her side, reaching for his coat and satchel. "I can't work here," he told her, feeling weak already. He needed flee while he still could.

"Because of me?" she teased him, fully aware of her power. She made him weak to the knees, gave him heartache in a way she doubted he'd ever experienced with anyone else (because she sure the hell hadn't).

Still a tinge of hurt remained, a doubt that he didn't want to work near her, because he feared she would compromise him again. She feared he wasn't ready to trust her again, and sought protective measures to ensure she wouldn't be able to disrupt him.

"Because of the effect you have on me," Lucas corrected, sensing the trust issue looming beneath her charming behavior.

She smirked at his response, tying her hands around her, just below her breasts. The fabric of the shirt tensed, it outlined her shapes clearer now. And he could see how she'd left the top buttons of his shirt open, how they teased him with a glimpse of the valley between her breasts.

"I won't be here, I promise," she tried to convince him, elated with the thought she could just swoop in and have him beseech to her for mercy.

Lucas gave her a long appreciating glance. "No," he said, "It's me I'm worried about." Because knowing she was near meant he would find excuses to see her, to touch her. And before he'd know it, he would just ignore his work and be bound to her like his heart already was.

"I'm going to one of my safe places," Lucas announced, trying to hold onto his dignity, his confidence.

"Safe from temptation," she concluded with disappointment.

"Something like that," he smirked. His trademark grin was beautiful; she loved seeing him like that. Like this he was free from responsibilities, worries, and dark thoughts. He looked like anyone other young man in lust, in love.

"Mira will know where I am," Lucas then brought her back to the moment, where he was leaving and she was staying behind.

Skye grit her teeth with suspicion. "Will she tell me if I ask her?" Because in her opinion Mira probably thought this was good. She'd jump at the chance of playing gate keeper to their relationship. Not that Skye could blame her. From Mira's point of view she'd had a devastating effect on Lucas.

"She won't cross me," Lucas promised. Of course Mira probably would guard this secret as long as possible, since it gave her leverage over Skye. He didn't think it was all bad either. His little siren needed a chaperone if Lucas was going to have any time or stamina for anything else.

And with that Skye just knew it. "She's not going to tell me, is she?" she worded her suspicion; succumbing to the knowledge that Lucas probably thought it was best too. Bastard.

Lucas leaned in over her, took hold of her face and kissed her. It was soft, tentative. Skye longed to make into something magnetic, something devastating. She held off though, as he was already pulling back by the time she was about to push against him.

"I'll be back in the evening." With a glance of recognition to ensure she'd accepted their situation, he withdrew and headed out. Skye was left standing there, wrapped in his shirt.

TBC


	14. Oil and water

He'd run out of excuses to comfort himself with. Skye had been gone for days, and she wasn't coming back. The tracker had failed, Curran was laying low and avoiding contact, and there had been no sightings of the Sixers in a few days now. So when he sat by Deborah Tate's bedside and watched her restless sleep, he knew he didn't have anything to say to her once she finally woke up.

Elizabeth had taken Deborah into intensive care, horrified with the shape of her new patient. But she had kept telling Taylor that the medicine seemed genuine, that it was an untapped fountain of potential once fully analyzed and examined. Hope remained. Taylor didn't know how he could've processed the bittersweet defeat if Lucas had schemed, if he'd lured Skye back to him with empty promises. It meant his son wasn't the kind of man Taylor had tried to convince himself he was.

Alicia appeared by his side, dark eyes sharp and perceptive for details. She gave the Tate woman's condition a quick evaluation, deeming her recovery still far away.

"Sir?" she spoke softly, keeping in mind that Taylor was still somewhat shaken by the recent events. After five years of pushing his troubled family history aside, it had suddenly caught up with him quite unexpectedly.

Taylor stirred in his chair, awoken from deep thought. He turned to his second pleased to see her. He'd been just sitting here for an hour already, hoping Deborah would show signs of improvement. But in reality he hoped she would hear him if he talked, if he told her how sorry he was that he'd failed both her and her daughter.

"Wash," he acknowledged her presence, but his usual enthusiasm was lacking. He was burning on a spare flame, half as bright as usual. She found this discouraging.

"Couldn't track them?" he then inquired, already knowing the answer.

Wash straightened her pose, brought her hands behind her back. She glanced at her feet evasively, gathering herself quickly as the disappointment rose. "I think he cut the tracker out right away," she answered, confirming his suspicions.

"That boy's always been sharp," he mumbled with disappointment, unwilling to compliment Lucas too loudly.

It was Washington's turn to crack a smile, drift down the memory lane. Lucas had always had a good eye for detail. It was probably why the scientific world had been his calling.

"You're surprised?" she observed. There was warmth in her voice when she spoke next, "You raised him."

Which inclined he should've known all too well Lucas would've been able to pick up the hints. Father and son were good at concealing their innermost thoughts to almost everyone else except each other. In that sense they had always been very similar.

Taylor shrugged off the comment, bothered by it. "I didn't raise him to kill people, Wash," he then said.

Of course it always came back to that. The knowledge that no matter what his intentions and efforts had been, Lucas had strayed from the path and headed towards anarchy.

"I know, Nathaniel," Washington replied, moving closer to offer solace. Of course she knew how pained he was, how this turmoil was inside him all the time. Taylor didn't talk about himself much, but on these rare occasions he slipped a few words, showed some skin beneath his armor.

Taylor got up from the chair, finding it difficult to talk in front of the ailed Deborah. In case she was conscious, in case she heard… he just thought it was best to move the conversation elsewhere. And so Washington moved to his side as he started walking through the infirmary and towards the cool outside air.

It had rained a lot today; the air was moist and full of scents. It reminded him how different it was in the future. There was an unusual chill. The temperature had fallen with the rain and mist had risen from the depths of the ground, swirling at their feet, creating an illusion of timelessness, of dread.

Once outside Taylor filled his lungs with a long breath, enjoying the cool feel of the air. Everything was alive here; small miracles of nature surrounded them. In the future everything had burned, and smoke had engulfed him wherever he went. Was it any wonder Lucas had thought Terra Nova so alien at first, reluctant to go outside, to experience it? He hadn't known any better…

"If he harms her…" he mused, enveloped in dark thoughts and fears.

Washington interrupted those thoughts though. "I don't think he will," she affirmed readily, having already given it some thought.

She'd replayed that scene in her head many times, searching for clues, for something to use against their enemies. What she'd seen though was a boy acting like a man, trying his best to keep himself together once Skye had stepped into view. Normally Lucas would've erupted in his father's presence already, but he'd tried a bit too much. After years of being a spectator in their game, Washington had picked up a thing or two about their behavior.

"I mean, he did go through an awful lot of trouble to get her back. Doesn't sound like the Lucas I know," she explained, having piqued Taylor's interest with her observation.

Taylor took a moment to consider her words, absorb them. "He was acting up strange. I've never seen him like that," he eventually admitted, agreeing with her somewhat.

"Pretty girl comes along, gives him attention, some companionship. He's been alone for five years, hiding in the jungle. Is that so unbelievable?" she continued with her analysis, remembering the sulking boy and his research. She remembered the countless times Taylor had tried to lure him out of his lab, get him to socialize. She especially remembered that one ill-fated fishing trip and the week's silence that had followed.

Now she knew Skye was extremely good with people, she had a way of getting them to open up and enjoy themselves, which in retrospective was alarming considering what she'd used this skill for. If anything, Skye Tate was easily likable, sincere. Washington had to wonder what would've happened if Lucas had met someone like her a little earlier in his life. Would've the isolation and the misanthropic views softened in the presence of someone who loved life so fiercely?

But admitting Lucas' intensity had waned a bit was as far as Taylor was willing to go. His trust wasn't easily regained, especially when his own son had plotted his murder and replacement. He snorted at Washington, disbelieving her notions, "You're such a romantic."

Washington didn't think too much about him teasing her, she was used to his facts-only approach. "Better than your cynicism," she frowned, defending her conclusion with a hint of humor.

They stared at the horizon together, sharing a moment of silence that stretched on. The silence in the wake of Skye's capture and leaving was ominous. Taylor could feel something coming, a change. He wasn't sure if it was good or bad, but he could feel it all the same. He was just hoping he could get the eleventh pilgrimage out of the way before the tides of fate started crashing. Innocent people didn't need to get involved in the civil war between him and his son.

"There's always Curran you know," Washington eventually sighed, uncomfortable with Taylor's plan of using this man as a spy. She wasn't an avid believer in second chances, not when they were given to people like Curran, who'd had everything in life and still managed to screw it all on their own. She didn't think even solitude, starvation or harsh nature would hone him into a good person.

Taylor could sense the underlying disapproval in the way her voice was just a bit off, contorted. Then again Washington hadn't exactly been supportive of his decision to plant the tracker on Skye either. Of course once Lucas had shown himself, she'd come around and admitted it had been a good plan.

"If he has any wits on him, he'll lay low for now," Taylor responded, hoping Curran would prove useful. He didn't give second chances lightly, but in the darkest hour of desperation when he'd been unable to catch the spy no matter what, he'd resorted to less than ideal means. Now Curran was the only ace left in his sleeve.

"I'm not sure he's that smart," Washington tilted her head and moved her fringe off her eyes, focusing on the pleasant dark around them. It made shapes harder to process, dangers difficult to detect, yet she felt safe here, standing with Taylor.

"I have him motivated," Taylor said with an ounce of pride, feeling trusting and complacent. He worried less and less about things that were out of his control, as he chose to focus on what he could still change.

He extended his hand, waiting for a few seconds until gentle rain started descending from the sky and over his hand. The first drops of rain were cold, but his body soon adjusted. He used the moist to wipe his face from the sweat and dirt. Washington withdrew from the rain's reach, uncertainty taking root in her.

* * *

Mira's gaze followed Skye Tate across their camp site once she caught glimpse of the girl, who seemed to bring trouble in her wake. For the past few days Skye had actually made an admirable effort to fit in with the Sixers, offering help whenever she could, talking to people out of her own initiative. Mira had heard good things all around, but also curious whispers of Skye's position here.

Officially Skye was helping their medic, Hicks, but Hicks kept shoving her in the middle of situations where help was needed more. Mira suspected it was a coordinated effort to keep Skye from being isolated, to push her in the middle of things. It was working though; Skye had a way of relinquishing doubts that people had of her. And Hicks could have her privacy while helping out another stray find her place in their midst.

Then again everyone knew Skye was sleeping in Lucas' hut, while the exact nature of their relationship was vague. There were questions, whispers of curiosity. Mira tried her best to avoid answering. Still Lucas was something the others needed, a symbol of them reaching their goals, and his choices were interesting. It also didn't help that Skye was quite friendly with another former Terra Novan, Curran. Lucas hadn't said anything yet – Mira feared he hadn't quite grasped the threat here – and it left the rumor control in Mira's hands for the time being.

She recognized the advantage in hiding Skye and Lucas' forbidden romance for now – after all they had visitors coming soon. Also it helped keep Skye in the position to watch Curran closely, which she assumed was Lucas' intention as well. Otherwise he would've thrown Curran off a rope bridge already just for giving his girl a wrong look.

Mira kept a close eye on the recent developments though, an anxious heart beating in her chest. It was her job to keep Lucas focused, motivated. Mainly it had meant she accepted Lucas' leadership without qualms and aimed to keep him on a good mood. Now it meant making sure his head was in the game, his mind on the calculations for this last short sprint ahead. There was also something else, something she didn't wish to categorize or even acknowledge. Mira settled to conclude looking out for Lucas was her job, something she was paid to do.

Yet every morning that Lucas slinked to her hut, knocked a little too energetically on the wooden pole by the entrance and walked in like he owned the place, making that same tired joke about her accommodations being too Spartan, she could sense he was happier. He acted less like a swaggering, self-important scientist and more like a leader. He would inquire after everything that happened at camp with a worried brow. She would snap at him, and he would snap back, but he would leave with a smirk. Mira realized she liked seeing him like that as opposed to the troubled angry man she'd known in the jungle.

And then she realized Skye Tate was standing right next to her, leaning against the rail of the platform with narrowed eyes. The transformation was very convincing; you couldn't tell at first glance that Skye had been initially an outsider. Everything about her screamed 'Sixer': her clothes, her wild hair, the weapons she carried and the necklace she wore. For a moment there Mira felt confident in the girl's ability to pull through and become a part of their community. Then Skye opened her mouth, and that moment passed.

"It's funny how I keep seeing Carter every time I look over my shoulder," she frowned, throwing a discreet glance at Mira. Her curly hair blocked her profile from view, giving only room for the impression that her body language spoke: casualness, tenacity.

Mira knew better.

"It's a small camp," she responded with amusement, finding Skye's attempts to confront her childish and ineffective.

"I think we all know he doesn't take a step without your permission," Skye clarified her position, using that sharp tone of voice that usually got her in trouble. She needed to show Mira she was serious though, that she didn't appreciate the tail for any reason.

Mira didn't let Skye's words prickle her; they just bounced right back at their sender, crumbling powerless before their intended target. "I'm sure he has better things to do than follow you around," Mira assured, leaving no room for doubt that everything was indeed happening because of her order or that Mira wasn't enjoying the effect her mind games had on Skye.

Skye remained quiet for a moment, crossing her hands over the rail, looking down on the people below. Lucas wasn't around during the days, and she was struck with a bunch of people, who made their best effort to look at her like she wasn't supposed to be here. It didn't help matters that she and pretty much everyone else knew Carter was on her tail. Curran was actually the only one that didn't seem to mind. Then again he was happy that someone was spending some time with him.

"So how am I faring?" she inquired. "Do I fail your test?"

Mira gave it some consideration. "You're doing better than I thought you would," she answered honestly, seeing no reason to lie. Skye wasn't going anywhere as long as she remained on Lucas' good side. Treating her civil was a requirement for things to run smoothly, even if Mira didn't especially dislike the girl either. She just sensed a world of hurt and pain on Skye's heels and wanted to keep her people safe, even Lucas.

"And you're being nicer than I expected," Skye countered, turning to Mira now, leaning against the rail with one elbow. She looked a bit sour, suspicious definitely.

"Earlier you were an enemy, and I treated you as such," Mira explained, keeping her eyes fixated on the ground. She wasn't feeling the need for a staring match.

Hope lit in Skye: a genuine spark of interest as she sensed Mira was frank in this.

"Does that mean I'm an ally now?" she asked anxious about the answer. Skye had never thought she'd be so keen on gaining Mira's approval, as she'd spent years hating the woman. But Mira was more complex than that, she clearly shared ability with Skye in the sense that she too knew what to say to get the desired reaction from someone.

Mira's eyebrows knit together almost immediately, intensity claiming her again. "Trust is earned," she said harshly. Things didn't just change after a few good days. Skye's position would only be tested once the chaos would spin out of control. Until that time Mira couldn't afford to keep Skye's leash too long.

Mira's answer made Skye stir a bit. She didn't like what she heard, because she'd hoped for a different answer. Things were getting easier with Lucas slowly, so she'd really wanted things to get easier between her and the rest of the Sixers two, especially Mira, who was in the position to make her life hell or heaven.

Yet she chose to let the issue slide for now, her curiosity piqued by different reasons altogether. While Mira remained stoic and tense in her presence, she'd noticed Mira loosened up a bit in Lucas' company despite their bickering. There was a strange bond there she didn't quite understand.

"Which brings me to how did Lucas earn your trust?" Skye confronted Mira. She suspected Mira wouldn't answer, that it wasn't in the cards, but had to try anyway. There was still so much about him she didn't understand.

Mira contemplated her words carefully before answering solemnly, "He saved my life."

Skye's expression betrayed her complete surprise. It was the last thing she'd expected to hear. Lucas hadn't told her about Mira when they'd first met or considered her a friend. The answer made sense though; Mira was the kind of person who took her debt seriously. If Lucas had really gone out of his way to help her, she understood perfectly why Mira would be looking out for him.

Mira shot her a warning look at this point, cautioning her against asking more about this. Skye took her silent advice and let it go, yielding her gaze. There was one last question she had though.

"And Carter?" Skye followed her earlier question. "I can't but help notice he does everything you ask without question," she then continued, elaborating a bit.

Mira was visibly disturbed: she shifted and her expression changed to something mordant. She had tolerated Skye's inquiries about Lucas and her, but saw no reason to talk about something like this. Also she was offended at Skye's tone, her unspoken indication.

"…teenagers," Mira snorted with scorn. For a moment Mira had actually forgotten how young Skye was, barely coming to age. "Scoot off, Skye," she continued, her voice dripping annoyance. She was shooting daggers at the younger woman already, muscles tensing, and threat sneaking into her demeanor.

And Skye saw it as a perfect chance to slip away. She smiled at Mira as she passed her by though, noticing how the bitchy exterior was falling off, how she was seeing the real person behind it. In all Mira had a lot more bark than bite than she led on.

"Catch you later," she even dared to whisper as she walked by.

Mira stood there for a moment, caught in disbelief that the little girl had managed to rattle her again and over nothing. She searched for Carter in the scenery, eventually spotting him leaning against one of the rovers, talking casually with another Sixer.

Carter was the only person she relied on, the person she went to when things didn't pan out. He always listened, gruffed a word or two at her, helping her clear her thoughts just by being there. She hadn't had a lot of people she could've relied on in her life in the past. It was still strange that she'd found such a person under such peculiar circumstances.

* * *

But Skye couldn't quite shake the honest answer she'd gotten from Mira hours later. She sat by Lucas' desk, carving at the wooden surface with the knife he'd given her the other day. She didn't even know what she was doing, other than venting her frustration to inanimate objects. Her grip on the handle was tough, unforgiving, and she moved her hand slowly up and down, creating a rift on the otherwise smooth surface. It helped her deal, this simple task.

Lucas' days were long, spent hiding from her, working on his project blindly. And she could tell something was on his mind, bothering him. He didn't voice it, and she didn't need him to. She knew the signs from his father as they both shared that troubled look, tried to shake off suspicion with equally ineffective performances. The status quo remained where she kept things from him and he kept things from her, and the only common ground was this hut, him melting into her kissing and her ignoring the problems.

She heard steps behind her, yet made no move to see who it was coming. She continued with her own project instead, gripping the knife ever harder as Lucas finally appeared into view. He scanned the hut carefully, entered with cautious steps. His face gained a kinder dimension once he realized it was just her, and he came to her, putting his satchel on the ground and laying his hands of her tense shoulders. He was about to greet her when he caught on the task she was focused on – namely demolishing his desk – and furrows gathered at his forehead.

Lucas moved his hand over hers, stopping the dull back and forth motion she had been engaged in. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked curiously, smiling at her obvious vexation.

Skye froze for a bit, uncertain with what she wanted to divulge at this point. She knew they needed to take things slowly or she'd risk another heated argument, but there were just so many issues there. It was hard to navigate with Lucas, when her compass kept pointing at all the peaks of ice sticking of the water, whereas she had no idea how big the icebergs were in reality. Like how she knew Taylor's side about Somalia and couldn't confront Lucas about, because she didn't want to hurt him or rip open those wounds. Or scream her opinion at his face about this whole operation to bring his father down.

Her grip on the knife relinquished and it fell from her hand to the table with a small clash. Her hand fell from Lucas' reach seconds later, resting on the wooden surface amid the wooden chips she'd carved.

"I had a talk with Mira," she explained nonchalantly, although irritation was all over her again. In the few hours she'd reconsidered Mira's position she'd found herself holding in another shrill of emotions that wanted to escape her lips. "She's very protective of you," she observed with disdain, sighing afterwards.

Lucas had to admit this wasn't what he'd expected. Mira should've been the least of their worries. Hell! The woman had been gritting her teeth for the past few days because she knew Lucas needed Skye. Lucas placed his hand on the desk, leaning in a bit, lips hovering mere inches away from her ear. Suddenly she was very aware of his body warmth, his magnetic presence.

"Are you jealous, Bucket?" he asked with a smirk, seeking to derail her dark thoughts a bit.

And it worked; she actually cracked a smile, making a face at his ridiculous claim. "I think she's genuinely worried about you," Skye corrected almost conceitedly. She's had a lot of time to think about this, to come to a revelation.

Lucas wasn't as sure; his playfulness vanished with that response and got replaced with an almost formal reaction. "It is her job, Skye," he told her, hoping they could leave this subject alone. It made him uncomfortable.

Skye turned a bit on her chair, moving her legs to the left edge so that she was facing Lucas' profile. He pulled away quickly upon taking notice of her aggressively satisfied expression. She felt she was onto something, wouldn't let the conclusion slide now that she had grasped it. "I don't think her job description dictates she should make an effort to be friendly," she noted with sarcasm.

Lucas placed his hands on his hips, standing straight in the small space. He paused for a noticeable moment before proceeding with an explanation, "That's just misplaced gratitude."

Skye moved her hands over the back rest of the chair, leaning against it while she gazed at his eyes. "Because you saved her life?" she asked innocently, dropping the information like it was no big deal at all that she knew it.

"You're good," Lucas complimented her with a smirk. "You got that out of her in just a few days when she's told this story to just two people in the past three years?" He felt admiration for her for a moment, but there was mockery in his voice too. It wasn't a topic he was particularly fond of after all.

Skye looked up at him, eyes pleading. Curiosity won out of all the other emotions and it was clear when she asked him, "Please tell me about it."

He had to make a double take on that, confusion was all over him. "Are you serious?"

And she nodded enthusiastically, reaching for his hand. Lucas caught her intention right away and leaned in to blow out the light in the lantern as she stood up. He straightened himself, feeling how she tugged at his arm, and began walking him to the bed. She peeled him out of unnecessary clothes and threw away the excess decorations and accessories from her as well. Then she laid them down on the bed, him at the bottom, as she placed her head against his chest, listening to his heart beat.

Lucas didn't know what to make of this very bizarre bedtime story, but he didn't think it would hurt either, so he wrapped his arm around her, and closed his free hand around her hand that rested on his chest, pressing a kiss on her temple. And he started to tell her.

"They were coming to meet me, stock up my supplies. There was Mira, the first leader of the Sixers and three other men. I can't remember their names anymore, none of them are with us anymore."

Skye could envision them skulking in the jungle, watching their step, holding their guns. Mira didn't look as fierce; she was warm and inviting like she'd been when she'd first arrived to Terra Nova. It is why her betrayal had come as such a shock.

"But they were mercenaries from tomorrow, not used to the wildlife, the dangers that lurk here. Their leader got mauled by a raptor first, died almost instantly. Mira was injured and left for dead by her companions. All three ran."

Skye could imagine the attack; she'd survived something similar once, trapped in a rover with a Sixer and her friends. She knew the dinosaurs were vicious, organized predators. The only thing that surprised her was the fact that Mira had obviously survived.

"She was bleeding to death on the ground when I found her. The raptors chased the men, knowing they had a buffet to return to, and live prey is always much more fun to catch. She was the most miserable thing I'd ever seen: dirty, bloody, sobbing, going into shock because of the pain."

And Skye knew what that looked like. She'd held many hands at the infirmary, tried to keep them present even as the shock was sending their brain mixed signals. Yet imagining Mira so vulnerable, so weak seemed hard. It didn't fit at all.

"I was going to leave her as well, even as she rambled on and on about her little-" Lucas had to swallow the words bastard child and pause for a moment to express himself more suitably. Skye used the pause to snuggle closer to him, press her face into his side, immersed in his story.

"-Sienna, her daughter back in the future," he eventually finished, wondering if Skye had known about that. Not many people did.

"She refused to die though. She held onto life with the last ounce of her strength, taking notice of me, knowing who I was and what I needed. I was piqued by her stubbornness, that fighting spirit none of the others had had."

In her head, Lucas was squatting over wounded Mira, scanning her calculatingly. He was young, dangerous, and angry. He knew the jungle though, was at peace with it already.

"I made a decision to save her, because I figured I'd rather have someone who owed me as an ally than the men who abandoned her without second thought. So I dragged her for a painful walk, prompting her to keep pressure on her wounds, to stay alive. She didn't complain once, not even when I needed to cauterize the wounds myself."

Lucas lifted Mira's hand over his shoulders, took support from her waist and forced them to move. Mira groaned (and Skye took a little too much pleasure in imagining that), keeping herself together barely. And when Lucas finally had them safe, he patched her up with bloodied hands and a sinister gaze, listening in on Mira's delirious rambles about her child.

"It turns out I was right about her. The incident awoke her fighting spirit, gave her reason to rise beyond her humble starting point. She convinced me to abandon her near Terra Nova, leave her to be found. I still don't know how she spun the tale to my father. I assume was something brilliant, because she remained hidden for months after everything."

This time Skye could remember it. It had been big news in Terra Nova – some of the new pilgrims being lost in the woods, one of them found half eaten by raptors. The search parties had been running rampant for days until Mira was discovered, barely alive. Everyone had thought her to be a victim: someone lured OTG for a little excitement. Even Taylor hadn't suspected anything until some months later, when signs of the Sixer infiltration had started to show.

"It is my understanding she took charge quite easily. I'm also certain all three of her opposition met with untimely ends in shady circumstances. Mira's never been good at holding a grudge, you see," Lucas smiled, thinking fondly of the past, the curious way he'd eyed Mira the next time they'd met, and how she had assured him those men wouldn't be a problem anymore.

He realized after a short silence that Skye had already dozed off. He settled to hold her in the dark and pull the blanket over them for warmth and safety.

TBC


	15. The Forest of Lost Children

Shadow and light teased his senses as he advanced in the shade, safe from the brightness that the foliage blocked. He was surrounded by heat and exotic plants gathered over fallen tree trunks, insects running across them. His steps were careful, his rifle pointed eagerly towards the direction he advanced in. There were others behind him, also moving as noiselessly as possible whilst surveying the grounds.

There was nothing here - not anything visible to the naked eye anyway. A presence lingered though, Taylor felt it clearly. It drove him onwards, this faint hope that the reports were true, that Lucas had been spotted near here. Not that he knew what he would do with his son if he caught him. They didn't exactly have means of punishment in Terra Nova for criminals. Banishment would've been futile as Lucas had already suffered that, and death was inconceivable. Taylor realized imprisonment was the only real option, and even then he had no answers, no easy solutions.

Just a glimpse of Lucas would suffice to him. Just a small assurance that he was alright, that despite the hatred and confusion in his heart, his son was better off alone.

At a distance, he could spot a figure emerging behind a tree, and this sight made his heart both elated and heavy at the same time, torn by conflict. He recognized the posture, the powerful frame and casual way he stood. Lucas leaned against the tree, staring away from his father and the approaching troops. He was soon backed up by more Sixers appearing from the bushes, each holding onto guns. As Taylor was beginning to grasp this situation – this all too convenient encounter – Lucas shot his father with a challenging glance, a ghost of a satisfied smile on his lips.

Taylor gave the signal to stop, halted the entire search party with one motion of his hand. And they all stood together frozen and guns pointed at their enemy, every soldier within someone else's clear range of shot.

Lucas had pressed his back against the tree, hidden his hands in his pockets. He could feel the gun press against his side, how it met with his raging heartbeat. His nervousness didn't show outwards at all, but it was very much present in his internal dialogue. He needed to do this; _they had all agreed together that it was for the best._

"Lucas," Taylor called, drawing attention to him, lowering gun as he took the first steps towards his son. He knew now Lucas had orchestrated this meeting, teased his patrols with sightings to lure him here without raising suspicion. The only question that remained was why.

"We need to talk," Lucas spoke, swallowing the insults. His gaze fixated on something in the distance; he still refused to even look at his father.

Taylor got closer until Lucas motioned him to stop with a sloppy move of his hand. The soldiers and the Sixers kept their guns aimed, ready to act when necessary. Lucas wasn't expecting any trouble though, and he genuinely hoped his father would take this chance to keep things civil for once.

"That's close enough," he said almost sweetly, "I prefer to keep this nice and discreet."

Taylor marked Lucas' words carefully, realizing Lucas had aimed at keeping this encounter a secret known to as little people as possible.

"Your friends wouldn't understand?" he retorted cynically, letting his eyes survey the party Lucas had brought along. There were as many Sixers as he'd brought soldiers, which left the two sides evenly matched. Still Taylor wouldn't have risked it, for he knew the Sixers would kill every man they could before surrendering, and it wasn't worth it.

"I don't care what you think!" Lucas snapped, his eyes darting at his father for the first time since his arrival. Taylor noted Lucas appeared healthier than he'd been when he'd traded for Skye just four days ago. He had more color, more energy.

Lucas had clenched his hands to fists again, attempting to rein in the destructive urges he had. He reminded himself of his reasons – those important conclusions he'd reached – and the fact that his father cared for Skye's wellbeing too. "I came with a warning," he continued calmer, a slight hint of regret over his little outburst.

"Warning?" Taylor questioned disbelievingly. He realized soon how serious Lucas was as Lucas stared right at him, his jade eyes betraying genuine worry.

"Yes, _father_. Someone's coming," Lucas explained with a chilling tone.

"Who?" Taylor asked, the barrel of his gun inching towards the ground, away from Lucas. "When?"

"With your new flock, disguised as an ordinary soul," Lucas responded with a cryptic message, not knowing much more himself. They hadn't given this operative a name or any other details. The company had shrouded this person in secrecy, which was quite unlike them.

"Why are you telling me this, Lucas?" Taylor wondered aloud, his tough façade fallen, leaving behind just a father trying his best to understand his son. None of this fit the pattern of Lucas' behavior. He didn't just come to talk to the father he hated or offer him help.

Lucas made a mockery of Taylor's curiosity though. "I'm worried about the safety of _my dear father_ ," he told in an almost theatrical manner, adding drama into his performance. It reeked of falsity.

"Who's coming Lucas?" Taylor demanded, putting more authority in his voice. It had worked when Lucas had still been a boy eager to please his father, but now that tone just raised a lot of old buried issues. Taylor waited for a reaction, and realized then, just by watching Lucas grit his teeth, what was really happening.

"You don't know do you?" he said in amazement, finding this revelation handy.

Lucas showed signs of shallow annoyance, grated by the fact that his father was so sensitive to his moods. He wondered where that hailed from really. He'd spent his late teens and early adulthood avoiding his father, until the old man had practically forced him to Terra Nova, ripped him out of the life he'd built with his own two hands. Lucas had done everything in his power to erase his father from his life, and Nathaniel had plunged right back into it every time, stirring those painful memories, a nightmare Lucas had longed to forget.

"Your precious colony will be infiltrated again, unless you find them first," Lucas settled to instruct dryly. He ignored his father's observation completely, giving it no recognition. He struggled to keep his face straight, everything in check.

"Isn't that what you want?" Taylor countered with a small jab, attempting to kick the hornet's nest again. Lucas remained unresponsive, the passionate side of his character locked away, quite unreachable.

"That's none of your business," Lucas responded coldly. He was reminded of all the reasons he'd been against this move: how his father had trouble believing anything he said; how he had trouble expressing himself to his old man; how both of them just wanted to be at each other's throats already, shooting punches. Then he realized his father had lowered his gun almost completely, his focus on Lucas and nothing else.

Lucas swallowed his pride, took on a softer approach, knowing how much depended on this.

Taylor remained quiet for a moment. He and Lucas stood between the two armed parties, at a small distance from the others, which gave them at least some privacy. Not every word was heard. It helped ease Taylor into asking his son about _her._

"How is she?" he inquired in an almost awkward manner.

"She's happy," Lucas told proudly, a warm gleam in his eyes. It reminded his father of a younger Lucas, the boy who'd smiled at people like that with no trouble. It was this emotionally scarred adult that had trouble showing his emotions to others, probably because he couldn't trust others.

Still Taylor felt a little weight in his throat, a lump pressing against his windpipe painfully. He'd thought of just burning down the forest where these lost children hid from him many times, and at the end of such days, he'd been glad that he hadn't gone down that path yet. Now he couldn't help but reaching for the torch, hoping for a spark to light the fire.

"She knows about Somalia son," he told him, anguish spreading across his chest as he watched his words reach Lucas, and throw him off his stable footing.

"You told her?" Lucas questioned, sounding personally insulted. Just like that he was back on the defense, shielding himself in case of another hit.

"It's not like you gave me a choice, Lucas," Taylor tried to explain, kindness and caring even in the face of Lucas' obvious chagrin, "You let her think I killed Ayani."

" **You did** ," Lucas answered gravely, meaning every word. They struck his father like a blade, drawing blood.

"Lucas you need to understand that the situation…" Taylor struggled with words, not knowing what to say. They'd been here so many times; it was all like well-rehearsed scene by now, familiar to them both.

"You were so young. The trauma…," he took a painful inhale, keeping his own pain contained. "You didn't see things clearly, you couldn't understand it then."

Lucas took a step closer, standing straight now. There was a threat in his demeanor, a promise of violence. "Memories don't lie," Lucas said, narrowing his eyes in disgust.

It left his father speechless like so many times before. And the doctors had explained to him how Lucas dealt with loss by projecting his emotions outwards in extreme ways. And when Lucas had stopped doing that, he'd started to implode in the weight of them, withdrawing from everything. They had feared and respected him at the university, his peers praising his intelligence and frowning at his lack of empathy. So he'd made the choice to bring Lucas here, one last try to show his son he cared.

"So what lies did you tell her?" Lucas asked, crossing his arms across his chest. "The sob story about how you had to make a choice?" His voice lowered into a harsh whisper, one that froze Taylor's insides just from listening.

"I remember you making that choice: the choice to invade a struggling country, where the only sin people did was refusing to share their natural resources; the choice to steal their lands, kill everyone that resisted and drive the rest away as refugees with no future," Lucas spoke with utmost contempt, having thought of this speech so many times, imagined telling his father just what he thought of the bullshit Nathaniel Taylor had fed everyone for years.

"I remember you bringing us there, parading us around with that sickening smile. Well I wasn't proud of you then father. I saw the blood on your hands, the bones you built our house on. And when the rebels came and took us, I understood why they did it."

Taylor launched a punch at that point, his fist connecting with his son's jaw. Lucas staggered backwards, embracing the hit, the punishment. It cleared his head, reminded him of the reasons he was doing everything. And even as he bent over, nursing his jaw with his hand, he smiled wickedly, felt accomplished.

Guns were cocked all around them, but Lucas spread his arms to show he was alright. He chuckled lowly at his father as he straightened himself. Their eyes connected, tension increased tenfold.

"What you do with this information I gave you is up to you. But trust me, if you don't catch this person, _you'll regret it_ ," Lucas told his father seriously, sounding almost melancholic for a moment. He left their personal issues slide once again, reminding his father of the real reason they were here.

Of course the arrival of this operative would spell trouble for Lucas, for Skye, probably for Mira as well. And as difficult as handling them was to Taylor, Lucas had an inkling it would be harder if the players changed.

"You're skating on thin ice, son," Taylor said before he began retreating. It was useless to fight now. All he'd have was more corpses on his hands. No, he needed to wait, be the one who picked the time and the place himself.

Lucas watched his father go. The pain didn't dissolve yet; it throbbed violently, threatened to possess him completely. He'd done what they'd agreed upon, and still he felt bad. Was it about knowing his father was the place he still ran to when he was in trouble or the knowledge that Skye had been smiling at him for the past four days like nothing was wrong, even when she clearly believed his father's explanations?

* * *

"I can't figure out why were never friends back in Terra Nova," Curran wondered aloud, passing Skye another plate. He watched her place everything carefully around the table, arrange the primitive cutlery in a less awkward fashion. She'd tied her curly hair with a ribbon, a few strands escaping it, falling to her face. She didn't look like the little girl he'd known. She looked older, different. And he found himself liking this against the odds.

"Oh please!" Skye complained with a smile. "You were a soldier, I was a kid. Worlds don't collide that much."

Her wrists were still bandaged and they drew some attention when she worked. Luckily Hicks had promised they'd heal shortly and they could remove the gauze soon. Good, because now her wrists felt swollen, she couldn't move them properly. Skye reached for another plate, her fingers touching Curran's hand as she took it from him. His smile widened a bit, and she was too absorbed to notice it.

These past few days they had kept running into one another all the time. It wasn't such a surprise since the camp wasn't that big to begin with. Also with both of them being sort of on trial here, they got handed out the least dangerous assignments. Skye didn't mind working for her stay, and she realized she didn't mind Curran's company as much as she'd initially expected to. His experience had indeed humbled him, being cast out and left to die, finding the Sixers by a miracle and being accepted here. After awhile she didn't even act so much around him, just behaved normally.

"We both had our friends. And I happen to know soldiers aren't allowed to hang with us teens that much," Skye explained, feeling all bratty and juvenile. She hadn't really felt like that in a long time; Curran reminded her of a reckless Skye Tate, who did things just to feel excited. Slipping back into that skin reminded her of all the things she'd let go.

"Except for Reynolds," Curran frowned sarcastically, having a little fun with Mark.

"Because Reynolds is so _excellent and gentlemanly_ ," Skye went along with his joke, remembering the courteous young man and his sweet crush on Maddy Shannon. Of course that made her think of Josh and Elizabeth, and suddenly she was in the Shannon living room again, being eyed like a suitable daughter-in-law. It gave her the jitters. How strange was it that she preferred to stand between estranged son and father, loved by both, betraying them in turns?

"Yeah," Curran laughed, leaning against the table for a bit as laughter shook him. He'd lost a lot of weight in the jungle, and his clothes hung on him, yet he remained lean and healthy. His eyes lingered on her, appreciating the sight, before he moved again after realizing he'd stared.

Skye's mind was elsewhere, scattered all around. Her mind had been on the eleventh pilgrimage a lot lately. She knew Kara was coming through, so at least Josh would have someone to distract him, but what about the rest? Would Hunter find someone else to crush over, someone new? Maybe Tasha would replace her with someone else, Maddy perhaps?

"Hey, you ok?" Curran asked her suddenly, stirring her awake from her thoughts. Darkness had crept to her face for a second there, worrying him.

"Nah, I'm fine," she rolled her eyes and put on a cheerful front. "All of this just takes a little getting used to."

She ran her eyes across the camp site: the Sixers that were playing cards a little further, the watchers on the rope bridges, the mechanic working on a rover, and unexpectedly Skye realized she didn't see Carter anywhere today. She did a double take, making sure she scanned everywhere, but he didn't appear into view at any point.

Skye frowned, suspecting something immediately. It was then that she heard a small yelp and sizzle, followed by several slurs. She turned hastily, finding Curran holding his hand with a painful grimace twisting his lips. He'd burned himself with the kettle on the fire, and by the looks of it, it was bad.

"Ok, you're going to get that checked," Skye noted in a motherly tone, leaving no room for objections.

"I'm cool," Curran insisted, his tongue flickering noticeably against his teeth when Skye tried to touch the burnt skin.

"Oh yeah?" Skye asked cynically, " _You're fine_?"

She grabbed him by his wrist and started hauling him away from the table and the kettle and towards Hick's hut despite his protests. Not that Curran put up much of a fight. He was happy to be led away by her, even for such an insignificant reason. She was a breeze of warm wind, something worthy amid the killers and thieves gathered here.

It was when they entered the hut and he saw Hicks standing there that he suddenly came to a complete halt. His eyes locked with Hicks, every detail evaluated with care. The scar was new but otherwise she looked the same – ruffled dirty blonde pixie hair, a messy tank top and soft features- if only a bit sad.

"Skye," Hicks greeted her warmly, yet her expression faded when she recognized Curran. " _Tim_ ," she said next, sounding very tense and sad.

And Skye was able to surmise that Curran's reluctance hadn't been just about not needing medical attention; He hadn't wanted to come here because of Hicks. They knew each other, had a history.

Curran's warm expression became stiff as well, though his voice was more intimate, "Karen."

"I'll leave you two alone," Skye said quietly and slipped out at this time, puzzled by this strange occurrence. She didn't go away completely though; she lingered at the entrance, at a hearing distance, arms folded across her chest. Something compelled her to stay, to listen and learn.

"Show me your hand, and let's get this over with," Hicks' voice called timidly, and Skye heard her walk up to Curran, apparently examining the burn.

"I have been avoiding you," Curran confessed at this point, voice tainted by regret. Skye could imagine him standing there, eyes cast to the ground. His usual brashness had been notably absent lately, replaced by humility.

"I noticed," Hicks responded almost angrily, doing something to elicit a pained grunt from Curran and then a low wail straight after.

"At first it was just… I was hoping it was a lie. That I wouldn't find you here," Curran explained softly, like talking to an old friend. He swallowed loudly. "Then I just chickened out time after time."

Hicks snorted at the comment frustrated, "Nothing's changed then."

"Karen, please," Curran pleaded, sounding genuinely sorry.

"I know about Foster, Tim. I know you killed him," She attacked him, her voice betraying a slate of conflicted emotions. "So in comparison, me being here isn't that big a deal."

It was Curran's turn to snort. "Really? You just left into the night _with them_ , knowing what their goal was. You abandoned your post, your friends, your CO. All because they needed a medic and no one else would do it?"

Skye realized she hadn't really given it any thought: what Hicks' story was. Well now she knew. She wasn't an original Sixer, but a former Terra Novan, who'd apparently been friends with Curran. And despite everything she'd left and come to jungle with Mira. Why?

"I didn't kill anyone then, and I'm not killing anyone now. I help people," Hicks explained collectedly, having rationalized her actions for years now. "These people were my friends then and are my friends now. They need me."

Skye wanted to walk away and not eavesdrop, but quite frankly she was frozen still. This unexpected drama had her enthralled.

"Really Karen? They were terrorists who wanted to hurt the colony, and you just tagged along like a mindless drone, like some _deserter_ ," Curran complained, his voice shaking already.

"I _am_ a deserter Tim. But at least I made this choice. I wasn't cast off for being a murderer," she snapped at him.

"Ok, so act like a medic and stop hurting me!" he barked back.

"Spread your own fucking lotion then!"

At that point Skye realized she was being watched. Her head turned slowly, pinpointing the source of this invasion of privacy when she realized Carter was there again. The voices in the hut were turning really agitated, and Carter seemed amused like he heard them too, so Skye made the choice to escape while she could. She placed her hands in her pockets, taking a few running steps to Carter.

Once she reached him they just stood there for a moment.

"I didn't realize she wasn't one of you originally," Skye eventually sighed, caught back by this revelation.

Carter pondered what to tell her, what she needed to hear. The details were unimportant to him, easily deducted from the fighting: That Karen Hicks had been security, served in the same unit as Curran until she'd come and live with the Sixers.

"She is useful," Carter eventually replied, shedding no new light.

"Am I useful?" she asked next, feeling a bit anxious, although she knew what the answer had to be.

"You can be," Carter said.

"But it's not like Mira would kick me out if I wasn't?" Skye tried to fish for an answer, to lead Carter towards the path of conversation she really wanted to engage him. He noticed this too, marked how effortlessly it came from her. He didn't respond.

Some seconds later they witnessed Curran rushing out the hut and striding away in clear rage. His cheeks were flushed, his hands clenched into fists and his skin looked tight, tensed. Skye didn't go after him even as she felt this decision sting her conscience. She was supposed to befriend this man, but so far all she'd seen was someone working against incredible odds, trying to live amongst people he still considered his enemies.

She was starting to believe this expose was all for nothing and at the end of the day she'd just end up hurting another person she'd grow to like.

Carter examined Skye, reading into her steel resolve quietly. And surprisingly, he did something unexpected. "Take it easy tonight," he told her.

Skye's head turned to Carter right away, her eyes questioning what he was talking about.

"Lucas," Carter then added.

"Why would I need to take it easy?" Skye asked. She had a feeling she wouldn't like this answer.

"He'll be on edge. He was supposed to see Taylor today," Carter revealed before taking off, fearing he'd leak more need-to-know information because of foolish sentiments.

TBC


	16. Fireworks

Skye strode across the camp in a fit of rage. The night had come and gone, and she'd fallen asleep on the bed, thinking Lucas would just wake her when he came back. Well, he hadn't – Not in the middle of the night, not during the morning. She had woke up all alone and pissed off.

Her quick advance didn't go unnoticed and neither did her obvious irritation. Skye was practically emitting sparks as she made her way towards Mira's morning spot, where the Sixer leader usually had her quiet moment of meditation and drank tea. Skye had caught wind of this bizarre routine on her first day here and made a habit of checking it out on consecutive mornings since. She'd mapped out countless other routines around the camp as well, following a tradition she'd adapted on Terra Nova as she knew it'd come handy one day. It was important to notice things, keep your eyes open in case you needed to slip away every once in awhile.

"Mira!" she roared angrily, stirring the Sixer leader from her thoughts. Mira didn't move from her spot though, just gripped her cup a little tighter. She was sitting on the ground with her back against a rock, eyes set on the tree line. A small fire reduced to cinder was still emitting heat next to her, and near it laid a pot she'd used to seethe the water and herbs. There was a strong herbal scent in the air, unfamiliar to Skye.

Skye stopped right next to Mira arms folded across her breasts, lips pursed. She was wearing a tank top and one of Lucas' shirts, which she had shortened from the waist down by tying the long hem on a bow over her stomach. "Where is he?" she inquired with an icy tone, not bothering to tone down her speech one bit this time.

At first it didn't look like Mira even acknowledged her words; she merely drank from her cup calmly, listening to the jungle. Skye waited for awhile, trying to keep up her anger, searching for Mira's eyes with hers, but she found it so difficult when she already knew inside that it wasn't Mira who was being impossible – It was Lucas. After a short while though, Mira took a careful sip and then glanced up at Skye, whose intensity was waning down.

"Lover's spat?" she asked without enthusiasm. Of course she was less than thrilled that Lucas was acting out. It meant more delays, more chances for the vipers to attack. It left them all weak, alone.

"He didn't come home," Skye explained with her head hung, agony replacing her anger. Hurt and worry always seemed to frequent her face around Mira, or so the older woman observed.

Mira wanted to throw a snappy comment about Skye calling this camp _home_ or about her worrying over a man who'd been in the jungle alone for five years, yet the remarks fell from her tongue when she tried to voice them. It didn't feel right, rubbing it in.

"He was upset," she whispered instead, nostrils quivering at the scent of the tea. "Well, he lied about having a breakthrough with the calculations, but I could tell he was upset," she then continued, making a vicious frown, seemingly annoyed at his behavior as well.

"Just point the way, and I'll drag his sorry ass back," Skye promised, needing nothing more than to see him now. The bastard had snuck out to see his father, gotten his feelings hurt and then decided to handle it alone. She'd seen enough of the Taylor family's way of handling issues by repressing them already.

Mira stood up unexpectedly. "I'm not sending you alone into the jungle," she hissed dangerously but softly, sounding awfully protective.

Skye threw a glance over her shoulder, noticing Carter standing not far away. She smirked back at Mira, her resolve strengthened. "Carter has my back," she then announced cockily.

It turned Mira's initial softness into something wild and harsh. She grabbed Skye's wrist, pressing her thumb against the bandage and the sore skin underneath. Skye yelped a bit in pain and surprise, quickly biting her teeth together to exclude weakness from her demeanor. They stared at one another intensely for a few seconds.

"You're not going to do anything foolish. If I take you there, you'll never attempt to go there alone because you _think_ you have a bodyguard. _Are we clear_?" Mira asked with a hushed tone, speaking the language of violence so clearly. Skye settled to nod, and she quickly cradled her hand against her chest when Mira let it go.

"I'll just have a few words with Carter, and then we're going," Mira told Skye, fully assured that Skye had gotten her message loud and clear.

Skye used the opportunity to retreat, seeing no use in arguing since she was getting what she'd wanted. She was a bit relieved though, for she'd expected Mira to put up more of a fight over this instead of giving in fairly easily.

And Mira motioned Carter to her, drinking the last of her tea with a bitter expression, finding the sweet taste suddenly sour in her mouth. She was still wearing yesterday's clothes – trousers, boots and a sleeveless shirt -, and her sable hair was open on her shoulders for once. Mira hadn't decorated herself this morning. She'd forsaken her ornaments, made no effort to tame her hair or paint her face. She gave a softer impression for once; even her eyes didn't look quite as angry when Carter reached her, and he took notice of this strange occurrence.

Carter stood in front of her casually, appearing refreshed. His hair was spiky as usual, his face decorated by a stubble he hadn't bothered to shave for awhile now, and he wore that necklace again – the one he'd gotten from Theresa awhile back. Her eyes seemed to circle the necklace for a bit, focusing on the cracked leather and pins. It was made from an old belt, cut into small slides and then twined into a necklace. He wore a khaki uniform, his tattoo hidden underneath the sleeves.

"Did you tell her about us meeting Taylor?" she questioned, already seeing the answer on his face. He didn't even need to say it when she already grunted with frustration, her expression shifting to something akin to despair. " _What the hell_ is wrong with you lately?" she snapped at him, digging for answers.

Carter was honestly a bit piqued at her venting her frustrations on him. Mira didn't generally pay that much attention to him as long as he got the job done. He raised a troubled brow in response, not knowing how he was supposed to react.

"Lucas works faster when he's happy," he then noted like it was the simplest truth, making no attempt of hiding his involvement in making things run smoother.

Mira licked her lips, refusing to look at him, staring at Skye's retreating back instead. "But the thing is Carter, we all know you're not going back, _so what do you care_?" Her comment came out a lot more hostile than intended, resembling an attack, a reflex. And still all she could think of was all the times she'd heard him speak, whispering the doubts, the alluring suggestions of staying here. They had all had remained with her.

He didn't have anything to go back to, just this failed mission that continued on and on. It didn't mean he didn't care. As usual, he stared at her mutely, searching for the right words a little longer than she would've given anyone else time to think.

"Because you need to go back," he then told her, brows furrowed, betraying weakness in that small fraction of second before he looked away.

"Everyone here has someone they're doing this for, someone they're saving. Yours happens to be important to you," he continued more confidently, sounding distant. "It's a better goal than just waging war for the sake of war."

Mira didn't know how to process this, so she chose not to. Anxiety was all over her in an instant, removing the softness from her. And in seconds the warrior was in her place.

"Keep an eye on things while I reunite the lovers," she whispered cruelly, cracking a vicious smile. Her hand tapped his shoulder as she passed him by and stayed a bit too long it its place, just enough for him to notice it too.

* * *

The hike to Lucas took forty minutes tops. Skye had trouble evaluating the time, especially since the route wasn't familiar to her. Lucas had chosen to hide further way from Terra Nova, and she was delving deeper into the jungle than she'd ever been. Even in her frequent visits OTG she'd always made sure she was close to help if she needed it and had only really charted the areas between the Sixer camp and Terra Nova. This area was new to her.

Mira lead her on mutely, struggling with something, an unpleasant echo or so Skye deduced. She was trying to look at her former enemy with new eyes now that she knew the back story of the woman who always seemed to get the short end of the stick, a mother working to get her kid a better future. She could tell Mira had a nurturing side to her as well, which was probably why she was making way with Lucas, why she had the patience for him.

It didn't cross her mind to test their fragile truce though; Skye knew better. She anticipated Lucas wouldn't be happy with her showing up and Mira helping, so Mira would have a reason to revert to her old behavior soon anyway.

Mira stopped their advance at a quiet spot, climbing to a nearby tree as Skye watched her movement with awe. Everything about the way Mira moved told her she was in her natural habitat, completely in her element – nothing seemed to demand any effort. And so Mira tugged at something at the trees, loosening a rope ladder that she pulled down. Skye realized then that the cluster at the trees wasn't just thick foliage as she'd thought, but a hidden tree house.

She approached the rope ladder with amazement and started to climb up. Mira used the tree to get there, and pulled herself up to the platform in the trees by sheer strength. She then reached down for Skye, kneeling on the edge of the platform and extending her hand to help Skye up. Seconds later she felt the barrel of a gun press against the back, and discomfort flooded her senses quickly. Mira didn't turn or move, she barely even breathed as Skye slow appeared into her view.

Skye froze just when she'd caught Mira's hand as she found Lucas standing behind Mira gun in hand, a harmful stare in his eyes. Lucas appeared well-rested and alright, yet the unmistakable irritation in him was present in the way he stood and held the gun. Skye didn't think he would shoot, but she was certain he wasn't happy to see either of them here.

"Lucas..," she breathed in worry. Anger took over that instant and she narrowed her eyes at Lucas, yanking herself up on the platform with Mira's help. "What the hell Lucas!" she barked, forgetting for a moment that silence was necessary.

"I think you broke him," Mira noted dryly, unable to believe her luck. The barrel remained at her back though, even if Lucas was now looking straight at Skye and her obvious rage. Mira withstood the situation, unwilling to try her luck. She still had the scar from the last time she'd attempted to invade Lucas' personal space. It didn't keep her from imagining spinning around and breaking his nose with her elbow though; the brutal image helped her stay still.

"You brought her here?" Lucas snarled at Mira accusingly, disappointment in his voice.

Mira just rolled her eyes at him, still kneeled right next to Skye. "I'll be right on my way the moment you remove that gun Lucas," she promised, ready to bolt at the first chance. It was up to Skye to calm him down and deal with whatever it was he was trying to fight this time.

Skye stood up now, bringing her hand over Lucas' wrist, watching him react to her touch, how he inhaled deep. He looked as mad as ever, but she sensed it had nothing to do with Mira this time. No, this was all about her and their little family drama, she could just tell. She caressed his skin lightly, watched as his grip eased and then how he pulled the gun away, letting Mira off the hook.

Mira stood up slowly, feeling relieved after she'd subconsciously tensed. She faced Lucas for a second, struggling with the desire to punch his face. Her desire was eventually subdued, and she couldn't help smile at the thought feebly as it slipped away.

"Don't all thank me at once," Mira commented, finding a strange satisfaction in seeing the dark gleam in Lucas' eyes subdue at the sight of Skye. She didn't waste any time in stepping on the ladder and starting her climb down after that. She most definitely knew when she was needed and when she wasn't.

With her disappearing from sight, Lucas pulled his hand away from Skye and retreated inside the hut that rested on the platform. Skye followed decisively, finding herself in yet another lair full of calculations and madness. It was the heart of his obsession, a secluded place he'd sought to keep from her. It hurt.

"Really? Not even a word to me that you weren't coming? You couldn't ask Mira to deliver a goddamn message?" she called to his back, staring at his black shirt and the leather harness over it. Lucas stood there back to her, focus on his papers.

"I needed time to think" he responded after a pause and motioned her to sit on the floor as there was no furniture in this quite primitive structure. It provided shelter, light, and a place to sleep without fear – nothing else.

Her anger wasn't so easily tamed. "And you couldn't do that with me around?" She asked snidely, sounding more like him than her. The only admission she gave him was sitting down as he'd wanted, and even then she chose the opposite end of the structure, eyeing him with offense.

"No. You fog things up, Bucket," he responded, watching her move while wearing his shirt, clad like a Sixer. Her appearance reminded him of the sacrifices she'd made. Desire clutched his insides, already taking effect. It was so difficult to stay mad at her, when her whole being resonated light in him.

She watched him watch her and then shut her out as he too sat down; arms slumped over his knees that separated them. "Nothing is simple with you," he told her.

Skye wouldn't relent, wouldn't give up. "Does it have to be?" she asked, wondering why he was so obsessed with labeling things neatly, having them be so accessible.

"Yes!" he shouted in a fit of honesty, feeling the weight lift with that statement.

"I want things to be simple. I want them to be clear," he explained, pointing at the calculations around them. They formed a messy picture that only a brilliant mind could connect, but to him they were clearer than anything, including her.

"I hate him so much, _you can't even comprehend it_ ," Lucas said next, sinking into the overwhelming emotion that had kept him alive. Hatred was the absolute truth, and his quest was a justified search for vengeance. Everything he felt, he felt for a reason. But in his head he father kept telling him his vision was flawed, and Skye kept yelling at him, saying what a terrible person he was. The two pictures didn't fit.

"But you spin things about, and that hate falters. I have nothing else. It sustains me," he explained.

Skye jumped a bit, leaning towards him, expression intense. "It doesn't have to!" she claimed, raw desperation in her voice. She tried to reach to him, to make him see.

"You have me," she then whispered, feeling tears sting her eyes at the sight of his lost expression.

"You're with _him_ , you'll always be with _him_ ," he responded, feeling the information tear at him again. And when she didn't quite see what he meant, Lucas smiled viciously, moving a bit closer to her as well, leaning over his knees.

"I saw my father yesterday, Bucket. I hear you two had a good talk about Somalia and my mother. I hear… you were quite convinced he was _a struggling hero_ back then."

 _Of course, because that explained everything_ , she thought bitterly, feeling bare under his stare. Lucas' most insufferable moods were tied to this: to his father, to this dark memory that had incapacitated him. She remained in her position though, leaned towards him, weight on her knees. The cold scientist observed her like a spider calculating its next move, thinking he had her trapped with the information he'd just disclosed.

"If you're asking me to accept your reasons for this, I'm sorry, but I can't," she responded truthfully, anguished over his expression, that hint of pain. "You were caught in a horrible situation, and you barely survived. But I can't blame your father for it. He didn't pull the trigger, Lucas."

She leaned backwards a bit, breaking her kneeling position and straightening her legs as he suddenly jolted at her, catching her in his grip, his hands locking her between them, between him and the floor. She was trapped so easily, left looking into his enraged eyes. She couldn't deny the primal fear in her gut, because he was acting like a wounded animal again, reason blinded from him.

Lucas held her down, thinking on some subconscious level that he could just silence her like this, have her agree, see his views and not contradict the truths he'd built his life on. She remained unwavering though, emotions building on her face as she shared every ounce of what he was feeling.

"They went into Somalia to pillage and plunder what they had no right to take," Lucas said, anger seething from every pore. His green eyes were almost manic.

"So when the rebels made my father choose, it wasn't about my mother or me," he continued softly, glancing down at his chest when her hands rose to it. Her touch was tentative, supportive even in the middle of everything.

"It was about choosing between the past, my mother, and the future, me. Would he go back where he came from and give them their homes, or would he stay and keep the claim over the land he stole?" He searched for signs that she understood his words; that she saw what he'd seen.

Skye let her head fall, touch the floor. She relaxed her body next, recognizing that he wasn't about to move. There was nothing sexual about this position, but it was intimate; he **was** reaching out for her.

"He learned nothing that day. He still fought in these useless wars, committed unjust crimes. I wanted to be nowhere near him, but he'd planned my future ahead."

His face moved closer to hers, lips hovering above her cheek. He wasn't as intimidating anymore. Even his grip was eased up. This was beginning to feel more like that moment in their bed when he'd told her about Mira.

"Military school, a career in the army. But I was too fragile for them. I was expelled quietly, so he wouldn't have to live through the shame."

Again, he spoke with contempt, reminiscing his teenage years, how he'd wasted them seeking for his father's approval when he could never measure. Skye listened, her focus solely on him, now that he was finally shedding light on the source of all this.

"I made my own life from then on, got a scholarship, went to college. It wasn't enough for him, so the first chance he had, he put through the papers to get me here. I was content, Bucket, and _he pulled me into this hell_."

She could hear the agony in his voice, the pure, unadulterated distress. And she wondered if that was why he'd worked on the portal, wanting to return to the future, to his life. She wondered if he'd had someone special, someone he'd left behind. And her face betrayed her thoughts; he saw what she was thinking, how the doubt clouded her beauty.

"No," he told her as her eyes strayed from his face, "I had my work, I was alright. But I didn't have _anyone like you_."

It felt good to hear that even when the doubts had lasted mere seconds. Skye moved her fingers a bit against his chest, feeling it rise beneath her touch.

"So the reason I'm doing this is that he needs to make the right choice," he explained next, lips moving to her forehead, brushing against her skin. She trembled beneath him, choking back tears, and even he had to close his eyes for a moment to regain control.

"They will strip-mine this place for everything it's worth, and he will watch. And they will take those resources to the future where we are a dying race, undone by our stupidity. People will live on because of Terra Nova's offering."

It was so clear in his head: So simple.

"He has a home now, and you want to destroy that because you think he needs to suffer for past sins?" she asked, hoping to understand. He was unrelenting, unable to see anyone but himself and his father here. The saddest part really was that Lucas was doing the same thing those rebels had done to him, that he was becoming the very people who had killed his mother.

He was caught off-guard completely when she suddenly pushed him off her and rose to her feet, empowered by her visceral reaction to his revelations.

"Terra Nova is about second chances!" she told him, throwing her hands in the air whilst he was still lying on the floor, blinking and staring at her thoroughly confused.

"Your father didn't bring you here to control you. He brought you here, because he wanted you two to be a family, because he could give you something better! He loves you!" Skye inhaled painfully, this conflict burning in her lungs.

He stood up and yanked her back in his arms, in his hold, the first chance he got. "No," he said to her cruelly, "This is the wrong choice. He can't choose who gets to be saved and who doesn't when he doesn't even deserve Paradise himself!"

She tried to struggle free but this time his hold was strong. Desperation crept to her face, and she considered that perhaps she couldn't make him change his mind. Perhaps it wasn't in the cards. He watched her yield in silence, easing his hold, allowing some room between their bodies.

"You're the same as the people who killed her," she said to him, defeated. It actually froze him for a moment, made him think, consider what she was saying.

"How can you demand him to be a better man if you're doing evil as well?" she continued wearily, tying one arm around his neck to keep her up. Her legs felt so tired suddenly.

"The needs of many outweigh the needs of the few," Lucas said.

"Isn't that the same way your father was thinking?" she countered, and felt a sob emerge from him.

Lucas batted his eyelashes, trying to grasp it. But he couldn't think of anything to say. The justifications crumbled on his lips, feeling empty. Who was the hypocrite really?

"I'm not going to stop," he told her, refusing to give up.

Skye just placed her head against his chest. "I love you," she whispered. "And I'm with you. I'm just stuck here, waiting for you to give up this anger before it swallows you whole."

Hearing it wasn't something he'd expected.

He'd known he loved her that day six months ago. He'd known he needed her from the first kiss. And for six months the prize of being with her once everything was over had been better than his revenge – he'd used it to motivate him. It didn't mean he didn't need his revenge anymore; just that for once he had something in his life after it, something good.

Did going through with it mean he'd lose her? Did giving up mean the Company would be on their tail for an eternity; that the lives Lucas had helped build for the Sixers would be threatened?

Either way Lucas saw no happy ending in store for them. She would never go with him to future where they would be safe from repercussions. He couldn't live with her in the jungle, condemn her to the same ruthless life he'd led before her. He would never return to Terra Nova and bow before his father. Skye wouldn't let him burn her former home, kill her friends. Staying with the Sixers wasn't an option without fulfilling his end of the bargain.

"Skye," he called her, searching for her face with his, trying to get her to look at him. His hostility had died, the anger he'd held inside had withered for now. She pulled her head from his chest and looked right at him sadly.

"I love you too," he then told her, knowing it was the one thing in his life he was sure of anymore.

Lucas kissed her, bringing his hand to her neck, hoping that the contact would help absolve him. They were at a dead end, but in the middle of everything she remained bright and inviting. Skye hadn't even considered that hearing him say it would feel so good. She realized she'd calmed him down again, planted another seed of doubt. And it was good enough; it really was enough for now. Little by little, she'd make him see that he couldn't do this, that he was better.

Once their lips parted she was left tasting him on her lips, smiling. With her hope rekindled, she asked him softly, "Will you take one day away and just be with me?"

"Like we were at the Falls?" he recalled; When things had been simple, when they'd both been happy. It wasn't an unreasonable request. "I will," he promised her, feeling her tie her arms around him next, squeezing real hard.

"Thank you."

* * *

She'd guided him outside into sunlight. And he'd shown her the spot near-by where the river was kind and warm and there was sunshine. They had swam, and sunbathed, and just laid there together in silence.

At one point she'd realized he was kissing her again with the same tenderness, the awkward tensions lost. Skye had kissed him back, teased him. They had made love in the sand by the river, protected by the tall bed of reeds around them.

He'd made sure she had something to eat, hunted and prepared them dinner while she had listened to the jungle outside. She hadn't asked him about his reasons for seeing his father (and whether he was beginning to see things differently). He hadn't asked her about how things were going with befriending Curran (and whether she was beginning to doubt this arrangement). But they had laughed, and loved, until it was dark and Lucas was kicking the fire out while Skye looked at the skies.

Lucas joined her side, knowing this was the end of this short vacation. They needed to return to the Sixer camp before Mira would worry. Skye would continue making friends, being useful, and he would continue wrestling with the issues at hand, with the calculations.

He moved behind her, tying his arms around her as his gaze fixated on the night sky. It was lit by fireworks.

And just like that he remembered: Today was the day, the eleventh pilgrimage had arrived and Terra Nova was celebrating its newest occupants. With any luck Taylor had found the company man, caught him and was now thinking of some way to get rid of this person. With any luck Lucas could trust in his new allies, Mira and Carter, and together they would find a way out of this mess.

"I didn't even remember what day it was," Skye told him a bit of nostalgia in her voice.

"Me neither," he admitted, having hoped for more time, for a sudden revelation that would save them all.

Skye took his hands in hers, squeezing them hard. "If he didn't bring you here, we would've never met," she realized, unable to imagine what her life would've been like. Would she be at Terra Nova, dating Josh, settling into mediocrity, dreaming of freedom and sneaking out for excitement? Would he be in the future, studying with a worried brow, trying to fix a dying world?

"For that," Lucas murmured in her ear, kissing it gently, "I'm glad."

TBC


	17. A Dangerous Mind

Skye found herself drifting through the woods, clutching the handle of her knife, drawn into keeping Curran's company once again. She motioned him to follow in her steps while she moved gracefully in the underbrush. He was clumsier but his steps were steadier; he was a soldier after all, not a hunter.

He didn't mind for he'd missed her in her absence, been reminded of just how lonely it was here when she didn't talk nonsense with him, laugh with him. He was here now because she was; He had volunteered for the hunt because she had. Even with the bandages gone from her wrists and the makeshift war paint that fled her flushed cheeks, she didn't look any less fragile. He needed to be here to make sure she was alright; if nothing else he could do that for Taylor.

There were others, but their ranks were spread thin. They searched for prey, signaled in the others and attacked in numbers, forcing their prey down with one swell swoop. According to Mira the hunter parties were gathered at camp, depending on the situation and whoever was available. Mira liked to participate whenever she was around, and Skye heard she'd dragged Lucas with them too once, and that was how he'd gotten the nasty bruise on his head.

This felt like a breath of freedom, knowing there was no one on her tail. Of course if she ran now they'd catch her in no time, yet Skye considered this another step forward on the long and winding road towards camaraderie.

Curran grabbed her hand suddenly, yanking her beside a tree, right next to his side. He pressed himself as flat as possible, his dirty clothing acting as camouflage for curious eyes. Skye hadn't seen what he'd seen, but she held in a breath with tension all the same, believing it was for the best.

"Someone's coming," he told her, voice tainted by uncertainty. She could tell he hadn't gotten a good look at the approaching figure.

"Probably just the watchers changing shifts," Skye suggested, sounding slightly out of breath.

"No," Curran responded, giving Skye another look. His eyes stayed with her cheeks, at the stripes drawn with red chalk that were meant to make her more menacing. Coupled together with the necklace, the leather strings twined around her upper arms and leather shirt she wore, she was starting to look more and more tribal.

"They wouldn't wander alone," he then explained, quenching the desire to brush away the dripping paint from her cheeks. He hoped the attack of this swelter would end already as the heat was becoming unbearable.

Skye stared at his perspiring skin, at the black lines running across his face. They were aggressive, stretching diagonally from his forehead and all across his face to his jaw. She was about to question him about the sense in this when he hissed at her quietly, "Stay here, I'll have a look."

And with that Curran vanished from sight. Skye didn't stop him. She stood by the tree faithfully. Within a few minutes she stopped trying to hold held breath, to keep still, and allowed herself to calm down and move a bit for better view. She picked her steps carefully, sliding closer to where Curran had stood before peeking. She didn't see anything out there.

She turned with a start though, hearing something behind her, and was suddenly face to face with a stranger, her knife pressed against his gut. The man that stood in front of her also had his weapon out in the open, pointed at her chest discreetly. It was loaded and ready to use. Skye shifted her eyes into the stranger's face, searching for an opening.

He was taller than she was, but just by a little. He had dark olive skin, brown eyes set in a round face, neatly cut hair and a dark chin strip beard. He was fit, had muscle and tattoos that stretched across his left arm, the one holding the gun. His breathing was barely noticeable, as if this man was capable of controlling every aspect of his physique. Skye realized quickly she'd be dead before she had the chance to shank him, and the revelation spread sweet paralysis into her body.

"I don't know you," she whispered, fear sinking in. Panic was signaling her body to act, but none of it was getting through.

He took in her words with delight, a bright expression making way for his words. "But I believe _I know you_."

"I will kill you if you don't back the hell up," Curran's voice warned behind the stranger, relief giving Skye room to breathe again. She spotted Curran's tall figure again a moment later, immediately feeling safer with him around.

The stranger gave her a toothy grin though, backing up a few steps and settling his gun back in its holster. He wore combat boots, a pair of cargo pants, a sleeveless shirt and second shirt on top of it that was open from the front. While he moved, Curran also circled back to Skye with his gun pointed at the man who'd threatened her. He didn't know what the hell was going on, but he'd suffer the consequences gladly if he'd have to shoot him to keep her safe.

"Holler the others," Curran said his focus completely on their prisoner. He held his gun with both hands now; keeping his aim to the head, at those strangely calm brown eyes.

Skye did as asked and made the signal, whistling loudly. The whistle resounded in the air, sounding more like an animal than a human. Around them the underbrush began to rustle with the rest of their hunting party gathering at this scene. Skye wanted to look away from this man, yet found his curious stare on her, like he knew a hurtful secret he wanted to expel from his lungs.

Mira was with the others, hair on bundles of braids, yellow war paint on her face. She appeared as proud and fierce as ever as she walked up next to Skye.

The stranger took notice of Mira's approach, and he smiled brightly then and there, a genuine grin creeping to his face. "Mira, this is a pleasure," he said, looking past Skye at the Sixer leader whose entire being became stiff.

"Do you know him?" Skye asked with bewilderment and worry.

"Not yet," Mira responded coldly. Her sour expression revealed just how much she'd been dreading this moment.

"You must be the one Sebastian sent," she then addressed their stranger whilst walking closer and pressing her hand over Curran's gun firmly, lowering its barrel until it was no longer pointed at the stranger. She could tell she'd guessed right even when the stranger didn't respond. "Do you have a name?"

Now the man faced her proud eyes, seeing something he liked. Skye and Curran hadn't been able to challenge him – they'd seen right away that he was dangerous and had feared to get involved – but Mira was right there, questioning his very existence.

"You can call me Morris," he told her, stepping forward and extending his hand. Mira took it without a doubt, shaking it with a firm squeeze. She then turned to the others to address them.

"Everyone keep hunting. Skye, Shiva, Chase, you're with me. We're returning to camp," she said, casting her eyes to Curran next to silence his opposition. Her cold glare left him speechless quickly as the message got through loud and clear. Mira wanted him and Skye separated right now before anything else happened.

Skye pressed her head, threw Curran a discreet glance and mouthed the words 'thank you' to him, feeling genuine gratitude for stepping in before things had gotten ugly. Curran moved away though, refusing to linger now that the order had been given. He knew Skye was somewhat safe as long as Mira was there keeping an eye on her.

The other two whose names Mira had called stepped closer to them. Mira was eyeing their stranger who met her gaze. They evaluated one another silently, a kind of respect forming between them. Skye felt like she didn't even exist at that time, but she was glad for Mira's intervention. This man made her very nervous.

"Alright, _Morris_ , let me show you to the camp," Mira said politely, taking on the role of a generous host. She was greeted by a grateful guest.

"I'd be delighted, _Mira_ ," Morris responded and walked right by Skye to walk on Mira's side. Skye stayed behind, walking last in line as the hike towards the camp began. She glanced back at the direction Curran had walked to, a frown forming on her face before she continued with the rest.

* * *

"What's the status?" Nathaniel Taylor asked, seated behind his desk, enjoying the shadow after a long day of heat.

"We didn't find anything," Alicia Washington concluded. She was leaning at the wall, fingers twirled around the loops of her trousers.

"Well that's not entirely true," Jim quipped in, a smirk playing on his lips. As usual there was a spark of humor in his voice. "We did learn Boylan conspired with the Sixers to drown us in alcohol," he winked. Jim Shannon stood between the two, walking about in Taylor's office, eyes shifting from Washington to Taylor in turns.

Taylor didn't appreciate his tone, yet he didn't have the stomach to make an issue of out it. He exchanged glances with Washington, saw her shrug with annoyance as well, and left it at that. "How many bottles did you confiscate from pilgrims?" He asked next, sounding largely uninterested.

"Sixteen?" Jim suggested, glancing at Washington who rolled her eyes again. She hadn't bothered to count, because unlike the marshal beside her, she'd been looking for spies not smugglers. Alicia had seen it wise to prioritize her time, while Jim had played a fool with the confiscated licker, his smile brightening whenever he found a new bottle.

"He arranged it before we caught him, I don't think he's doing business with them anymore," Washington said, feeling strangely positive about this.

Jim made a face at her nonchalant approach and disinterest. "You can't know that," he noted, turning his attention at Taylor again, clearly hoping he'd be given the authorization to raid Boylan's operation again.

"By that logic we'd have to assume Josh was still working for them too, because his girlfriend came through," Washington countered, feeling catty. Really she was just taking out the frustration of not finding anything. Lucas had given them a hint, something she'd actually believed for a change, and they hadn't been able to do anything about it.

"My son is not working with the Sixers," Jim mumbled, sounding a tad insulted. He didn't latch onto the words though, for he could tell Washington had a point.

"I'll let it slide for now. Give the man his licker," Taylor announced, eager to finish this conversation. Sure Boylan was a scumbag who profited from the misery of others, but Taylor knew people needed their little vices or they would lose it. A little drinking and gambling every now and then wasn't the problem, resorting to the help of the Sixers was. He honestly believed Boylan wouldn't try it again though.

"I suppose we should be grateful everyone got here safe," Washington tried to chip in and change the subject, speaking more to herself than anyone in particular.

"Except that one guy that fainted from the heat and exhaustion," Jim smiled, his smile vanishing quickly when both Taylor and Washington suddenly stared at him questioningly.

" _What guy_?" Washington asked sharply, tired of his antics.

Jim frowned, unable to grasp what Washington was so irritated about. "You know, the guy that fainted at the gate and is resting at the infirmary," he explained like it was common knowledge.

Washington reacted with alert though, pushing herself away from the wall and back to her own two feet. Her expression was dire. "There's no one at the infirmary, Jim. All pilgrims got through safe and sound. I checked the records," she claimed.

A heavy silence followed her comments though with all three of them thinking in unison.

"What did he look like?" Washington turned to Jim, ready to extract every bit of information from him.

"He was lean, looked like he'd worked on some construction site: Hispanic, dark hair, a beard. He was dressed like a worker, and he looked the part all the way," Jim responded with a frown, worry sounding in his voice.

He was beginning to grasp it, the unspoken truth. He'd meant to ask Elizabeth about it, but she'd been caught at work and between Zoe, Maddy and having to keep an eye on Josh and Kara he hadn't given any of this a second though. Also he knew someone should've noticed if there was anything off about this guy by now, because they'd been doing everything in their power to snuff out potential infiltrators. They had checked the personal belongings of all new pilgrims and made sure everyone's data matched with their official records. Heck they'd even checked the retinal scans.

And Taylor had his answer then and there. He took an assuring breath, standing up as well, hands over the desk.

"He never arrived to the infirmary, because he wasn't coming to us," he explained with certainty, clearing all doubts in the room. And as much as Taylor hated being right, he just knew it. Lucas had been right to fear a man who'd fooled them all with such ease. Taylor felt a small tinge of respect forming inside him for this infiltrator.

Jim cursed. Washington punched the door frame. And Taylor wondered what had been so bad that Lucas had come to him to prevent this man from reaching the Sixers.

* * *

Lucas motioned his guest to sit on Mira's field bed, finding a stool for himself. He would've accommodated them at his hut, but he didn't want this man anywhere near Skye, not after seeing how she'd returned from the hunting trip looking so visibly shaken. His intuition had traced the source of her trepidation to the man in front of him.

Mira had emerged from the woods early, followed by the operative they had failed to get rid of. Mira had then introduced them, suggesting they exchange a few words in privacy, offering her hut as a place of converse herself. Lucas had accepted willingly, watched discreetly as Mira had guided Skye away from them, keeping her silent, undoubtedly whispering new guidelines to her. Lucas made a mental note to himself to thank Mira for her efforts.

His gaze fell on the operative again. He was sitting down as instructed, appearing casual and comfortable in these new surroundings. He was nothing like Lucas had imagined, yet Lucas didn't allow first impressions to cloud his judgment. This man had succeeded in getting past the security at Terra Nova and then just hiked to them like it required no effort. He knew better than to lull himself into a false feeling of security.

"I'd offer you a drink," Lucas said courteously, hands spread on his sides, "but as you can see, we don't live that luxuriously."

The operative, Morris as he'd introduced himself, just smiled back and reached for the back pack he'd dragged along with him. "No worry, I brought some with me," he assured, pulling out a bottle of whiskey.

Lucas' eyes spread in shock at seeing such expensive commodities here in the wilderness. He was more surprised that this man had gotten such an item past the security though. But he didn't hesitate when Morris handed the bottle to him; Lucas found them cups and poured them both shots of the expensive drink.

They toasted without the usual verbiage, exchanging knowing looks. Lucas drank only some of his slowly, whilst Morris emptied it with one quick gulp.

"I needed that," Lucas remarked, putting his mug away, the taste of whiskey branding his lips.

"I believe you," Morris responded, eyes surveying Mira's private sanctuary curiously. His sharp eyes noticed a lot of details concerning this woman he'd met earlier. He memorized everything he could, knowing he'd find the right moment to have a similar talk with her in private. He suspected he'd enjoy that one more than this though.

"I hear things have been rough lately," Morris commented, gulping as the whiskey still burned his throat. He coughed a bit after that.

"What do you want?" Lucas cut to the chase, eager to be rid of the pleasantries. Mira had kept up her good cop cover they had agreed upon, but he didn't need to. He could be just as ruthlessly honest as he wanted to, and the truth was he didn't want this man here.

Morris raised a brow, showing no other visible reaction to the direct question. "I don't want anything," he claimed seconds later.

"Bullshit," Lucas responded.

"Fine," Morris admitted, leaning his back against the supporting pole behind him. "I want us to be friends, Taylor," he then said, making no big deal out of it.

Still it was the last thing Lucas had expected. In his mind's eye he'd seen this man come here, start giving orders and making their lives difficult and then reporting back to Sebastian. Worst case scenario had always been deeming them incapable of handling things, and then getting rid of them.

"I don't want any friends. I have all the friends I need right now," Lucas responded coldly, ignoring the offer that he'd deemed a mere ploy.

The heat was getting overbearing; they were both covered in sweat and its heavy stench. Sweat had gathered onto their clothes, it made the fabrics latch onto their skin. Mira's hut had a fresh scent though, something unique and irritating that wouldn't leave Lucas alone. Morris didn't seem that bothered by it, even as Lucas pulled his collar loose with his fingers, struggling to withstand that dryness in his throat. He just watched Lucas calmly, his previous playfulness vanishing.

"You're not the kind of man to make friends, Taylor," he then noted, sounding more formal already. "I recall that the last friend you had applied for a transfer to a different unit to get rid of you and your obsessive behavior. David Summers, was it?"

Morris struck Lucas with his insight, this intimate reveal that he hadn't shared with anyone in this timeline. But Lucas recalled the incident all too well; how he had pulled some strings to get his former flat mate a prestigious position, and then getting abandoned as David realized how absorbed Lucas had become with his project – the fracture and everything surrounding it. David had claimed it was impossible to work with Lucas.

"How would you know about that?" Lucas wondered aloud, frowning. He was not pleased one bit that this interloper seemed to know such things about him. It had to mean Morris had studied him and possibly other key players closely before coming through, and that spelled trouble.

Morris leaned a bit closer now, a victorious expression on his face. "Of course I know," he stated arrogantly, slumping one arm over his thighs whilst rubbing his beard with the other. "I've studied you, just like _they_ did before recruiting you," he revealed nonchalantly, making no big deal out of it.

Lucas absorbed this information, a confirmation to the conclusion he'd reached himself too. "Should I be flattered?" he asked cynically, trying to reign in the anger of having his background probed and checked.

Morris made a face at Lucas' comment, signing it off with a lazy hand wave. "You don't come off as a very nice person on paper," he said, trying to recall details the best he could. He swallowed and raised a finger then, listing a few things he'd found interesting.

"There were a few assault charges - all dropped of course," he said. There was a lingering pout on his face, a sign of disapproval that annoyed Lucas more than the truths this man was laying out.

"And then one colleague called you a budding psychopath, and somehow I don't think that's because you claimed she'd stolen some of your research. She might've been more put off by the very visceral threats you sent her way."

Again it was true, but Samantha Ferris had indeed tried to get into Lucas' good graces and then proceeded to steal his research. Lucas had dealt with it, and Samantha had made a quick exit from his life.

"A former girlfriend describes you as an uncaring asshole for the two months you were seeing one another," Morris mentioned, clearly trying to bait him. Lucas didn't fall for that either; he remained stoic and unmoved. Maya Killmore had been as shallow as they came, but she'd been a pleasant distraction for awhile. Of course once she'd started getting ideas about them, he'd given her a piece of his mind.

"Not to mention your therapist who recorded rage issues, had a strong suspicion of PTSD and some kind of twisted oedipal complex," Morris concluded, running out of fingers to lift up. He was looking right at Lucas now, expecting a reaction to these insights.

Lucas responded by shrugging. "I make a fascinating read apparently," he quipped and took another sip of his drink. For a moment there, he actually believed he was untouchable, that the dark place inside him was well hidden and Morris had nothing on him.

Morris didn't hesitate to play another card though. He frowned gingerly and remarked, "Why is Skye Tate still here?"

That caught Lucas' attention and drew out a genuine reaction. Suddenly Lucas was all ears.

Morris noticed he'd gotten through and continued, "She's outlived her usefulness, don't you think?" His brown eyes were full of confidence. He enjoyed twisting the knife, pointing out weaknesses, breaking others.

"That's for me to decide," Lucas noted, eyes narrowing as he was beginning to get the hang of this game. They had doubts, obviously. And the operative was here to uncover the truth and then deal with it. The only question that remained was how far would this man go?

He noticed too late how Morris' gaze was fixated on his hand still grasping the mug a bit too tight. His tenseness was visible; the shadow of doubt had crept to his face.

"So you're sleeping with her," Morris concluded with amusement. "She seems awfully young," he threw in a moment later, as if recalling Skye's face.

Lucas wanted to kick himself for not doing a better job at hiding her, for thinking his father could've actually prevent the arrival of this man. "She's old enough," he responded grimly, unwilling to go there. Also it was useless to try and hide it if Morris was already assuming and not insinuating.

A cruel grin spread on the operative's face. "Aren't they always?"

It was enough to get Lucas to bolt to his feet, thunder back at his unexpected guest, "You flaunt the records that prove my short temper and then proceed to irk me."His lips pressed into a thin line, every trace of friendliness replaced by hostility. " _Not a smart plan_ ," Lucas noted.

Morris stood up as well, a bit shorter than Lucas, but clearly capable of handling himself. He didn't perceive Lucas as a threat, as much as clear in the way he stared right back at him, void of fear.

"I only have facts, history. You've been off the grid for five years. Things change," Morris explained with the sense of success all over him. Lucas could see his muscles were flexed and his jaw line all tense.

"Not that much," Lucas claimed, hoping he could erase the doubt. He needed to convince this man nothing had changed; that he would still gladly serve the Company as per their agreement and deliver the calculations to them, even with the doubts Skye had planted in his mind.

But Morris could see his bluff. He could see this man wasn't the angry academic, the short-tempered hothead or the obsessed scientist he'd studied. This was a whole new animal, a mind more dangerous as it was robbed from clarity.

"Apparently they do," Morris then said, placing his cup in Lucas' hand, and walking right past him.

Lucas was left to swallow his bitter defeat. He'd failed this test utterly and completely. But the worst part was that he still didn't know what he wanted while this man had him pegged all too well.

* * *

"Are we clear?" Mira asked, snapping Skye right out of her thoughts. She'd drifted off for awhile, stuck in that horrible moment where she'd been sure this Morris would shoot her and leave her in the woods to bleed out.

"Yeah," Skye assured, sounding shaken still. Mira studied her, eyebrows knitting together with uneasiness.

"It's better you keep your distance from Lucas for now. I may not particularly like you, but I'd rather keep you alive," she said, her hand moving to Skye's shoulder. The action felt alien to her, and yet she tried to calm down this distressed girl, knowing things would only escalate from here on.

Skye nodded weakly. Of course she understood. She'd just wished Lucas would've mentioned about this a little earlier. It was tough learning that he was knee-deep in trouble because of her when she'd just been asking him to go against everything yesterday. If she'd known, she would've at least had the courtesy to… Skye inhaled again, swallowing heavily, trying to shake her body from this numbness. She was a liability to them all and still Lucas, Carter, Curran and even Mira were working to keep her safe. She hadn't really understood any of that until now.

"You can sleep in my hut for now to avoid suspicion," Mira offered, clearly taking no joy in it.

Skye wanted to refuse, but then she saw those brown eyes in her mind again, looking at her like she was something insignificant. "Yeah," she agreed, "It's probably for the best."

"Stay out of his way, Skye, I mean it," Mira warned next, her voice high-strung.

For once, Skye had no objections to Mira. "I will," she promised quietly, holding back the anxiety she was feeling.

Noticing movement at the entrance of her hunt, Mira became focused again, excusing herself from Skye's company and heading towards their guest. Skye stayed up at the platform, hoping she wouldn't stand out to this man's perceptive eyes. Right now she just wanted to be invisible.

Yet Morris drew her gaze upon him, and she watched his surprisingly relaxed interaction with Mira from afar. In a sense Skye was reminded of how she behaved with Curran; being friendly to gain Intel. And just as she thought about Curran, he appeared by her side, war paint cleaned and woe written all over his face.

"Curran," she said when she noticed him. "I thought Mira told you to stay?"

Curran looked a bit pale; he was clutching the leash of his weapon tightly. "I said I wasn't feeling well," he explained, turning towards Morris and Mira next. "Who is that guy?" he then whispered as discreetly as possible.

Skye felt bad disclosing information to him, but at the same time she felt the need to tell someone, anyone. "I think he was sent from 2149," she answered, chills running down her spine.

"Did you see the way Mira looked when she arrived?" Curran said, that unnerving feeling teasing him still.

"Like trouble," Skye concluded with a sigh, sharing his unease.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Curran then sighed, rubbing his chin self-consciously. He turned his back on Morris and Mira, hoping to keep that man from his thoughts. Skye continued to look though; almost compelled to keep watching.

"He knew who I was, Curran," she said weakly. "And he looked surprised. Like he expected I was rotting in a ditch somewhere." Her voice betrayed weakness, her fear.

Curran responded to that immediately, getting her to look at him. "Not going to happen Skye," he told her sternly.

She actually cracked a desperate smile at that, feeling silly for having to point it out for him. "If he's getting rid of me, you'd be next in line, so there's not much you could do."

"Doesn't mean I wouldn't try my damnest," he vowed, sounding somewhat noble for a change.

"Thanks," she said, feeling alarm over his protectiveness. "But Lucas will keep me safe. I trust him," she told him next, hoping he wouldn't be pressured into doing something stupid for her. There really was no need for that, not as long as Lucas was breathing.

Curran felt a stab of jealousy though, reminded of her special relationship with the Sixer leader. "Because you're his sister, _right_?" he asked, not even realizing fully that he was testing her.

"Yeah," she responded, "He's all the family I have left."

But on the inside lying felt as bad as ever. Her lips wanted to tell him the truth, stop talking around the tough issues. She might've eased into this friendship and pretty much stopped pretending in the past week, but she knew this wasn't based on anything real. It was a web of lies she'd spun carefully. Omitting the details of her relationship with Lucas had a conscious choice, one that was constantly hurting her.

Curran looked down at her, believing her words. "Well he's not around that much, Skye. I'm here if you need me," he then said before he set off.

Skye remained at the platform, eyes cast on Mira and their special guest. She fidgeted her necklace, wondering just how long they would have to keep up this pretend. Something told her it wouldn't be over anytime soon.

TBC


	18. Blind Spot

Mira was slumped in a hammock, her gaze shielded by a pair of scratched sun glasses, her hands grasping a bottle of water. Her long hair rested on her shoulders like a lion's mane, coarse and dry. The sun teased her with slow narrow bursts of light and warmth over her toes. She liked the sensation of weightlessness, the comforting swing back and forth. She was free here, out of reach with her duties, with the people depending on her, with the task of keeping an eye on Morris.

She had peace until Carter was suddenly standing by her, blocking her sun. After that her peaceful moment died quickly, leaving nothing but anticipation in its wake.

Even with the sunglasses muddling the details, he could make out that she was looking right at him, and it didn't unnerve him one bit. He then threw a curious look at her bare feet that rested over the edge of the hammock. Mira reacted to this in an instant by tensing and pulling her feet inside the hammock almost protectively. His mischievous expression was followed by a smirk.

"What the hell do you want?" she asked with more bark than bite and removed her sunglasses, placing them and the bottle on the table beside her.

She'd stayed in the shade this morning, enjoying a little time off while it was Lucas' turn to entertain Morris, whereas Carter was covered in sweat, his body aching in exhaustion. He'd been visiting the watch detail by Terra Nova, listened to their reports and hurried back.

Carter pushed her hammock a bit to make the swing a bit faster. Noticing how this annoyed her, he gave it another push right away, laughter bubbling inside him. He was on a very good mood this morning, and for some reason he actually felt like sharing some of it.

"You asked for me, remember?" he said with friendly intent, but got his hand caught in her grip when he tried to push the hammock again. Suddenly their eyes were locked together, hers distrustful and irritated, whereas he was just feeling good, light even.

"Stop doing that," Mira advised with a serious tone, letting his hand go and watching Carter retreat, before she pushed herself off the hammock and onto the ground. The soil gathered at her bare feet, seeking to harm her, but her skin was too thick, too used to these rocky grounds.

"Nothing is happening back at Terra Nova," he informed her, whilst watching her stretch like a cat, all limber and relaxed. "The pilgrims still affect their ability to do anything, I suppose," he continued and took a gulp of her water, letting it refresh him.

Mira searched for her boots, her knives and her gun. She found all that waiting on the ground by her feet and grabbed her belt first where her holster and the weapons were attached. She fastened it with steady hands, listening to Carter while at it, and followed this action by pulling her boots back on. Then she grabbed a piece of string from her wrist, untangling it before she tied her hair with it, working it to a messy bundle on her neck.

"As much was to be expected," she commented. Taylor always had a few days of slumber when the new pilgrims arrived, and the first two weeks were generally good days to pilfer, confuse and trade. Before Josh Shannon they had had a sweet deal with Boylan all worked out, which was sadly done for now. Boylan had used their contacts to supply him with some rarer brands of alcohol, and Mira had been promised her share, which she would never see now. It was a real pity – especially with Morris around as she was hankering for a good stiff drink.

"Are we going to talk about it?" Carter then asked, skipping the formalities. His good mood was suddenly a thousand miles away, replaced by tension.

Mira didn't look at him, just fixed her belt and checked her knives as usual. She didn't want to answer him, because she knew very well what this was about. It was a subject she'd wanted to ignore for the past few days, ever since Morris had walked in on them, taking them by complete surprise. She knew Carter had ideas on how to deal with this, and in her experience they were all bad. But above all, this was about her placing her trust in Nathaniel Taylor and convincing them all to do so. It hadn't exactly panned out as expected, now had it?

Her reward had been watching three men growl and eye at each other like they were ready to tear each other's throats out, while trying to talk some sense into them. Lucas didn't listen, Morris listened all too eagerly, and Carter had gotten more and more vexed each passing day. He'd offered his hut to Morris, and god knows where he was sleeping at the moment, so it wasn't like Mira didn't understand his unease.

Of course Mira had had the utmost pleasure of sleeping with Skye Tate these past days, of listening to girl's nightmares, shaking her awake and then pretending she hadn't seen or heard anything. A part of her wanted to believe it was manipulation, a skillful plot, but another part of her knew all too well it was just a girl crying over her mother.

"No, we're not," Mira rejected his request, her foul mood all too clear in her response. Carter didn't let her go that easily though.

"So that plan failed," he mocked her a bit, trying to make it easier for her to admit it, admit that they were knee-deep in trouble and had no good solutions for it.

"It was a long shot at best," Mira then admitted, reclaiming her water from him and drinking it.

"And now?" Carter asked, raising a brow. "I'll happily arrange _an accident_ ," he hinted, speaking barely loud enough for her to hear him.

It felt wrong though, just hearing him suggest it. "He's not the type," she warned him. "He's dangerous, and we need to be careful." Because she could tell he had an ace up his sleeve, some kind of failsafe in case they tried just that. Morris was too smart to reveal anything yet; she needed to get a little closer to learn what it was before she could plan anything against him.

Mira tried to walk past Carter to reach the sunlight that was so inviting (her resting place was in the shade, wrapped in the protective shield of the trees), but Carter took hold of her shoulders, forcing her into unfamiliar closeness to observe her and pierce her façade. She tried to avert his eyes, to squirm, and yet he saw the truth.

"He has you scared?" Carter asked, amazed that anything could affect this fearless woman so.

"You should be too," she told him. Lucas was scared, Skye was scared, even Curran knew better than to start up any shit while Morris was watching, but Carter remained stubborn and blind to this. Quite frankly it was becoming a problem.

"But I'm not," he responded, slipping back into his good mood, confidence backing his words. She believed him. She just didn't think it was a smart approach in this situation by any stretch. Mira looked visibly worried, her forehead furrowed in response.

"You don't do anything foolish, Carter. You follow my orders," she asked instead of commanding, which was unheard of.

"If he comes at you, I'll end him. It's as simple as that," he told her, still holding his hands on her shoulders. His grip was so assuring; it aimed to lull her into trusting him with this.

"Don't," Mira said, shaking her head. "Don't be stupid," she then continued, pulling away from him. The worst reason to start a fire in this situation was because of her. Mira knew her worth all too well, and she was the least of their worries.

"We're going for a little trip, Lucas, him and me," she revealed next.

"Where?" Carter asked immediately, his voice sharp and a little too eager.

"The Badlands," Mira responded. She placed her hands on her hips, pressed her lip between her teeth in a moment's worth of contemplation. "I need you to keep things cool while we're away."

Cool as in no assassination plots, no rebellions, and no unsanctioned attacks against Terra Nova. Cool as in nothing out of the ordinary could go wrong this time, nothing bad could happen. And she trusted Carter, but she also trusted her gut that told her they were just a happy accident away from fucking up for good. The Company held all the cards for them, her daughter among others, and she couldn't afford to piss them off.

"How long?" he inquired. She noticed the warmth had gone from his voice. Now when he spoke it was polite, respectful and full of hidden aggression. She spotted it easily though, having been here before.

Her thoughts were laced with hope only because the last time they'd faced a problem like this things had turned around; Lucas was now someone they considered a close ally. Maybe she could make Morris into one too?

"One day there, one at location, one back. That's three total," she informed him almost gingerly, really hoping he wouldn't make this into a problem.

Carter raised a brow sarcastically, whistling low at the estimate. "Three more days off schedule? Must be important," he commented.

Mira hesitated only for a second before speaking her mind aloud. "I think he's ready. _I think he's stalling_ ," she said, letting her anguish over the realization show. Of course it hurt, knowing she could run through the gate today and finally see her daughter if Lucas wasn't contemplating his next action.

Carter took a step closer. "Does Morris suspect?" he asked next, alerted by Mira's words.

"What do you think?"´Mira shot back, feeling mean all of the sudden. "He's good at reading people, Carter. And Lucas isn't exactly subtle. Besides he had the calculations, he knows they're sound. It's just writing them on paper."

Carter saw it now, not having realized how much she had pent-up rage inside, how many things she kept even from him. And here he was proving her suspicions right once again.

He sighed, letting the anxiety slip out of his skin. "You do what you need to do. I'll make sure things are cool here," he told her, submitting to her will like he always did.

"Thanks," she said after a moment's pause, truly meaning her words.

"I just need some time to sort it out."

* * *

Three days of half-finished sentences, half-finished thoughts swimming in his brain, searching for a way out, that's all Lucas' days had consisted of. Their uninvited house-guest had remixed the deck to his own delight, and Lucas didn't like this marching order one bit. Mira had acted quickly, moving Skye from his hut and accommodating her in hers. Skye's scent still lingered on the pillow at night, haunting him, forcing him to suffer insomnia in dark.

He'd been so worried for her that he couldn't continue working at his safe house anymore. No, he'd stayed here to keep an eye on things and relieve Mira of her watch duty every now and then. For the most part the past three days had been wasted as his mind couldn't focus enough to work the equations, not when he had more immediate dangers to consider.

Lucas knew it wasn't a big task to finish it, that he was nearly done. Yet he hesitated to take that final step, knowing it would mark his future and truly be the point of no return. Lucas hesitated because he no longer knew for certain which step to take, which side of him to listen. No matter what he would betray his word to someone be it his sponsors in 2149, Mira, himself or Skye. But everyone was looking at him to end this stalemate, to be the savior in this situation. Lucas honestly didn't know if he was up for it.

So he sat at his desk in his hut, turned his papers in his hands and glanced at his console every now and then indecisively. Then he ended up taking a long walk at the camp, finding his way to Mira and Morris eventually, while subconsciously seeking for Skye, knowing that just a glimpse of her would help him calm his mind. Unfortunately the thing was, he'd seen her many times these past days, gazing from afar, reading into things, gestures and looks, between her and the people she was with – between her and Curran.

The question that plagued him wasn't if she was doing her job well, no, it was whether she was pretending to be friends with him or not. Lucas didn't know what to believe anymore; her behavior seemed so real. If she was acting how could she pretend so well? If she wasn't acting, how had her opinion of this man changed so? They seemed so friendly, like they had known one another for ages. It bothered him more than he liked.

"So this Curran… he's a former Terra Novan too?" Morris asked, sounding friendly. Lucas knew better though, this man didn't engage in useless chit chat with him. He reserved those moments for Mira, the only person he was somewhat warming up to. No, Morris always had a thorn in his comments to Lucas.

"My father cast him out for murder," Lucas explained, choosing his words carefully. He wanted to tear his eyes from Skye and Curran as they walked towards the woods together, apparently running some kind of an errant for Hicks, yet he couldn't.

"Who knows if he actually did any of it," Lucas then added, having had doubts of Curran's past before. It wouldn't have been the first time his father had exiled someone for having a differing opinion.

Morris leaned over the rope rail, standing at a small distance from Lucas. He seemed unusually interested in this, which spelled trouble. "I see. They have a lot in common, Curran and Skye," he noted with amusement.

"They're friends," Lucas said dryly, unwilling to explain the situation further to Morris. Admitting he had suspicions of Curran was something he didn't consider smart at this point.

"Of course," Morris said in his defense, sounding most understanding. "It is a tough thing leaving your home and shacking with the enemy. One should have friends to share the burden with at least."

At this point Lucas turned to Morris, taking notice of the smug way the bastard was smiling. Morris was enjoying the clean air and sunlight visibly. Sweat pearled on his hairline and his dark eyes were full of comfort, like he felt right at home here. He'd brought in his own change of clothes: simple shirts and cargo pants. Even now he wore a sleeveless shirt that revealed his muscular arms and the tattoo that covered one of them. Lucas didn't know its meaning, but it was vicious and sleek, kind of like its owner. Everything about this man spoke of someone who was a living weapon, whispered tales of prowess.

Morris' hints were certainly not necessary here; Lucas thought bitterly and decided to throw back a comment. "Yet you have none," he retorted with something akin to disgust.

Morris also turned his attention to Lucas, preparing to speak his mind. "They're a blind spot. A place you don't look at, because you're afraid to see. It has to end, Taylor; picking up these strays, your father's outcasts. You don't owe them anything!"

There was a gleam in Morris eyes, danger and truth combined. And the worst part was that his words made perfect sense to Lucas, despite his attempts to deny it. They traded vicious words, played a verbal of chess every chance they had, and every time Morris brought forth a new claim based on reality, backed his opinions with facts skillfully. He prayed on weakness, doubts, and he did it without flinching. It almost felt like a good idea to trust him, just because he had all the answers while Lucas had been rendered adrift.

"We blackmailed her into spying for us. The least we could do was to take her in," Lucas tried to explain. His reasoning sounded false even to his own ears. Of course they hadn't needed to do anything. The only reason Skye was here was because of him, because of that chance encounter six months ago.

"Into your bed nevertheless! Aren't you the good Samaritan?" Morris mocked him in return, laughing aloud. His laughter wasn't malicious though; he actually found this relationship curious. Having studied Lucas closely before coming here, he had trouble connecting the dots between the old Lucas who shunned human companionship and this new Lucas who was hungry for it.

"Can't say the girl doesn't have her charms," Lucas noted, passion creeping into his voice. He didn't need to lie, not when he'd been deprived of her alluring company these past days, and every cell in his body was screaming for her constantly.

Morris understood his infatuation clearly. He'd seen her more than once now, lighting up every conversation she attended with her smile. She was lovely up in person, even if he had to question her motives for being here. Skye apparently made a great effort for fitting in, doing her share of the work and getting acquainted with the Sixers.

If he was to believe that she had fallen in love with Lucas Taylor and followed him here like a tragic heroine, he just couldn't. And that was why Morris needed Lucas questioning this as well, because his vision was blurry with her around, and it would be their downfall.

"She spied for you for what? Three years?" Morris inquired softly, returning his eyes on the Sixers on the ground level. Skye and Curran had already walked away and were out of sight for now. It helped him paint this picture that Lucas needed to see.

"- And no one in Terra Nova knew because she was _so likable and young_ ," he then hinted without a trace of malice. He was simply wondering, entertaining the possibility that the cycle was waiting to be repeated.

Lucas took a heavy sigh, annoyance creeping back into his skin. " _I would know_ ," he said, sounding certain beyond any reasonable doubt. If nothing else, he was certain of her feelings for him.

"Are you sure?" Morris asked, crossing his arms across his chest. He appeared more like a concerned friend than a business associate at that moment. "She seems awfully close to her _friend_ there," he pointed out before he saw Mira and Carter walking below them, immersed in conversation.

Morris took interest in it immediately and abandoned Lucas to his thoughts, having successfully planted another seed of doubt.

* * *

Skye let the water take her body, invade her skin, embrace her thoughts and wrap everything into a cool murky embrace. It was peaceful below the surface; noises didn't reach her here, people didn't shower her with suspicious looks and Lucas' absence didn't feel as bad. Eventually she needed to go back to gasp for air, but not yet, not this minute. Right now she could just enjoy it while it lasted: this calm.

She pierced the surface shortly after, swimming back into the light. Usually the waters were clear, but the natural pool of water she was in was deep enough to block some of the sunlight. Skye ran her hands across her skin, rubbing the dirt away from her. She didn't have soap or a swimsuit, but Shiva had agreed to keep watch while she took a swim to cleanse herself, so she didn't mind. This felt too good to worry about the details.

Of course once she noticed him sitting on the grass and watching her swim, she snapped right back into reality and turned to him without making the slightest attempt to cover her naked frame.

"Lucas," Skye called, not knowing what to make of this intrusion of privacy.

But Lucas just looked at her like nothing was wrong, like they were two strangers at the Falls with no worries. "Bucket," he said a moment later, acknowledging her presence whilst holding back a laugh.

He sat there, leaned against his knees, entire being focused on her alone, whilst Skye was standing in the water waist deep, hand frozen by her neck as she'd been pushing back her wet hair aside when he'd caught her like this. They hadn't talked for three days, but apparently Lucas had been the one to break the silence first. Skye admitted she'd been too afraid of the consequences to even attempt it; Mira had been most vocal about avoiding it for now, and she had been eager to test Morris' patience either.

Lucas then reached for a towel by him, stood up and spread it, signaling her to approach with his fingers while he held the towel for her. Skye took control of her body with a sour expression, and she started making her way to him, seeming more than comfortable with her nakedness.

"Where's Shiva?" she asked him when they were just a few steps away. Lucas rolled his eyes at her question and stepped forward to wrap the towel on her.

"You forget she takes her orders from me," he scoffed playfully and pressed against her whilst rubbing her skin dry with the towel. Everything about him was strangely light and calm. It contradicted the quite visible duress she'd seem him under these past few days. Skye wasn't stupid; she could tell he was putting on a lighter act for her.

"How's your work coming together?" she asked warily while allowing him to continue this task he seemed to take such pleasure from. Skye turned when he wanted her to, lifted her arms to give him access and allowed herself to sink deeper into his arms, that lovely place she'd missed so much.

Lucas placed his jaw on her shoulder while his hands worked to dry her with gentle round rubbing motion. He held her still from her waist with one hand and used the second to dry her. His hands lingered in the more sensitive parts of her body as he made sure she didn't stay wet long.

"Not at all, I'm afraid," he confessed, like it didn't mean anything. "The constant fear for your safety does strange things to my ability to concentrate," he explained a moment later, giving her some time to absorb this knowledge.

"Any…," she cleared her throat a bit as his hand cleaned the skin below her breasts, before moving over them one by one, "second thoughts on what we discussed the other day?"

He moved his head to kiss her neck. "I might have to renegotiate some of the terms for our arrangement," he told her with clear delight.

She liked hearing him like this, almost free. Her hopes weren't too high though. She knew all too well things wouldn't just slip into their right places like this. Lucas' willingness to bend the rules had more to do with her safety than seeking reconciliation with his father.

He moved the towel around her tightly when he had nothing left to dry and tied his arms around her. "We're going away for a few days. Morris, me and Mira," he then revealed, holding back his duress.

She wanted to ask him for the details, all the while she knew it was probably better the less she knew, so she just nodded weakly. "Well, at least I won't have to bunk with Mira," she quipped back, actually feeling small regret on that. Mira wasn't as bad when you gave her some time to mellow and respected her boundaries.

"Carter is staying behind," Lucas told her. His voice was rippling with concern now, the lightness had vanished. His fingers played her side, like strumming a guitar almost nervously.

"What's wrong Lucas?" she asked with a worried brow and turned to him finally. Skye raised her hand to his cheek, felt his unruly stubble with her fingertips. She absorbed his anxiety, felt it pave the way for another argument.

"I think you should stay away from Curran for now," Lucas then said, surprised when she pulled away almost instantly, her expression disturbed, shocked.

"I'm doing my job Lucas, getting close to him like you asked," she responded a tad tensely, narrowing her eyes as she wondered what he was talking about all of the sudden. She knew that this was a good chance for her to get his guard down. If Curran was indeed working for Taylor still, he'd jump at the chance of doing something now that Mira, Morris and Lucas were away.

He didn't reach for her, just observed her darkly, face unreadable. "Don't get too close," he warned her.

Skye actually let a burst of laughter escape her lips that moment, finding his sudden possessiveness to be simply too hilarious.

"Or what? You'll get jealous?" she asked teasingly. None of this was serious to her, he realized with annoyance. As usual, Skye only saw what was right in front of her and none of the deeper implications and consequences of her actions.

"He will get ideas," Lucas noted calmly, hoping she would treat this problem with the same focus as he did.

But Skye had been expecting this for awhile. Lucas hadn't been around until now, so it wasn't so surprising it took him time to recognize what she'd already seen.

"I think he already has ideas, which is good, because he'll be more inclined to trust me," she explained, having given it some serious thought. Even if she felt bad for misleading him and kind of liked being friends with him, she also recognized that harmless infatuation was one of the better things that could come out of this. It meant she was getting through, that he would drop his guard for her eventually.

Lucas reacted to his with surprise. He pushed one hand into his pocket and caressed the side of his mouth with the other, suddenly bothered by the calculating manner in which she was treating all of this.

"In retrospect that puts our relationship in bad light," he noted coldly, albeit she could tell he was mocking her. "Were you seducing me, Ms. Tate?"

Skye rolled her eyes at his bad attempt at humor and punched his arm playfully, while grasping the towel tightly with one hand to keep it in place. "If he gets too frisky, I'll just tell him that _my dear brother_ won't like it," she announced cleverly, unprepared with how this revelation affected Lucas.

He grabbed her shoulders in an instant, face plagued by distress, his jade eyes flickering when he moved.

"You didn't tell him about us?" he questioned her angrily, feeling the rage push past his defenses. He felt the sting of betrayal again, no matter how ill-advised it had been. The mere fact that she could've lied about them to Curran felt incredibly cruel.

Skye just stared at him for a second, frozen still, eyes locked with his. "I said you were like a brother to me," she confessed in bewilderment, not knowing what she was supposed to say. Had Lucas honestly expected her to announce she was fucking the Sixer leader and then ask Curran to trust her? That would've been lunacy!

"Skye, this is serious!" he insisted. Lucas fought the urge to punch something inanimate, to let out these destructive impulses. He recognized jealousy and fear easily, but the third was something he had expected to feel: it was disappointment.

"He thinks you're fair game!" he then continued and released her from his grip, taking a deep breath between his teeth. He didn't know what to do, but now that the cat was out of the bag, he didn't want Curran anywhere near her.

Skye was beginning to get mad as well. Just like everyone around her, he also assumed she didn't know what it took to make her own decisions. Well she'd done this willingly. The conclusion had been reached after hours of contemplation. She'd needed a game plan, and this had worked so far!

"And that gives me an opening!" she claimed, fisting her hand in frustration. Everything about her was harsh now: cold and goal-orientated. Gone was the soft girl he loved, and in her stead stood a spy that did whatever it took to succeed, hurt whoever it took. Well she was hurting him!

"Lucas, if you want to know what's his deal, this is the best way in, trust me," she tried to explain as he turned from her, running his hand across his face, trying to feel anything but this hot mess he'd stumbled upon.

"Find another way!" Lucas then roared at her upon turning back.

He hadn't meant to yell, but his control had slipped just for a few minutes. Skye was staring at him, caught completely off-guard by his behavior. She was hurt; her face slowly peeled the remaining bits of vulnerability as she got mad as well. And she pushed him back with her hands, taking the room she needed to breathe.

"You mean like you should find another way to get back at your father!" she demanded, taking the low blow while she still could. Yeah, her trust in him had been miraculous, almost blind. She hadn't rushed him, hadn't really given him any ultimatums. So why couldn't he trust her back?

"You want to get in the middle of that again?" Lucas asked. Every pore in his body was seething anger, while his insides boiled with passion for her. It was her determination that set him on fire; it equaled his own, the one he'd lost when he'd let her spellbind him into confusion.

"I didn't choose to be in the middle of anything," she snapped at him. "It's where you put me."

Skye then pushed past him and towards her clothes. She began to dress herself, hoping he'd leave her alone for just two minutes, so she could gather herself and calm down. But Lucas's stare drilled into her naked back while she pulled her clothes back on. She heard him breathe, felt the way he struggled with this. Honestly it hadn't been her intention to hurt him, but somehow things kept spinning out of control all the time.

"Do you even realize why I'm mad?" he asked her, trying to contain this thunder cloud of emotions within. He'd never considered her too young to understand certain things, or too carefree, or too anything. She'd been perfect just the way she was, even when she'd argued against him, even when she'd announced she'd left the hard drive behind.

Skye swallowed, but the bitter aftertaste remained in her mouth. Everything felt heavy. "Because you can't trust me the way I trust you?" she mockingly guessed, only managing to further his fury. Well she didn't care if he was angry, because she was already hurt, already bleeding her guts out. The sun stabbed her eyes while she fought the tears, because she didn't want him to see any of it.

Lucas was about to open his mouth, make it all too clear for her, when he realized it was better he didn't say anything he'd regret. He figured she'd continue fighting as long as he enabled her to; it was just the way she was wired. The realization felt strange, like someone had pressed a rock over his heart. He didn't want to hear any more.

Lucas swallowed his disappointment and anger, settling to just announce, "See you in three days, Bucket."

His words hung in the air, the intended disdain clear to both parties, and with that Lucas walked away.

Her heart ached, the hurt neared some of the more painful moments of physical pain she'd experienced. Skye stayed behind to gather herself. She'd been so eager to prove herself, to show there was something she was good at. It wasn't like she liked any of this any better than he did, yet she'd needed to defend her own decisions, no matter how vehemently.

TBC


	19. Razor's Edge

He watched them go in silence. It wasn't exactly a secret at the camp that Mira and Lucas weren't getting along with this new contact from their bosses, but watching them now, all those awkward gestures and the seething fire beneath their strained smiles, he just knew trouble was coming their way. It was exactly the kind of information he'd waited to report back, a nugget of gold that would buy him his freedom.

So Curran watched them load the rovers with supplies and set off in unison, accompanied by a few other Sixers for security. His gaze drifted to Skye who also observed from the sidelines, unusual gloom present in the way she held herself. He figured she'd exchanged words with Lucas Taylor, for the man had given him some cold stares these past hours.

Something had shaken her alright; her demeanor had been different since this Morris had arrived. He could see the shadow of fear on her face whenever she passed the man by or saw a glimpse of him. It didn't help that Lucas had been around the camp a lot more lately, his intense eyes searching for Skye wherever they went, always holding a seemingly judgmental thought.

Curran didn't quite know what the deal with the two of them was, but it was clear it was unhealthy for her, and that Lucas apparently felt something more for her than brotherly affection, which added another problem on his list. Curran hadn't expected to befriend Skye or care what happened to her, yet he was thinking ahead for the both of them, bound by the knowledge that she needed help as badly as he did.

Something needed to be done quickly. Time was running out, and he was sure Taylor didn't know his son was still working on the calculations despite the loss of the hard drive. With the Sixer leaders gone, Curran wouldn't get another chance this good again.

Despite the good rapport between him and most of the Sixers, Curran knew where his loyalties lied. These people were aiming to hurt the colony, to invade his home and destroy the work of the Commander, which made them his enemies by default. He couldn't just close his eyes and pretend he wasn't helping them do precisely this, like Skye had chosen to do in her darkest hour. No, Curran couldn't fault her; she'd been driven into a difficult position, and she'd lost all hope of going home again, which was why Lucas Taylor had been able to drag her along since she'd been discovered at Terra Nova.

Curran knew she was a good person beneath, simply in need of a second chance. He was sure the Commander would shelter them both if they arrived at his doorstep, carrying news that could end this stalemate. He knew Taylor cared for her like a daughter and suspected even her betrayal hadn't completely destroyed that relationship. Hope prevailed in the face of darkness.

* * *

Skye held onto the beverage she'd been offered, not even having realized the drink had gotten cold while she'd contemplated on this mess, lost inside her own head. She sat by a small fire, leaning her back against a log, warming her wet boots by the flames. It was shaping up to be another cold night in the jungle, the kind that snuck up on you and made you reach for someone, anyone, for warmth. The problem was she didn't want just anyone, she wanted Lucas.

They had exchanged some horrible words, and true to his family heritage, he'd left without solving the issues laid bare in front of them. It really shouldn't have come as a surprise to her, for this had happened a few times during their short acquaintance already. Skye should've anticipated it, and avoided the issue by taking the higher ground and just refusing to argue.

But who was saying she was the adult here? She'd been yanked from her home and her family and thrust into this wild life she hadn't desired. She'd met a man, spent six months imagining him to be flawless, and then had those delusions crushed in the cruelest ways possible. When was her time to act out if not now?

"Your drink is cold," Hicks pointed out dryly as she returned to fire, sitting across Skye on the other side of the fire. She was fidgeting something in her hands, a piece of string she couldn't quite leave alone.

Skye frowned at the comment, bringing her cup to her lips to taste the drink and prove Hicks wrong, but her expression changed once she realized her mentor was right. Skye finished her drink sheepishly, feeling shame for have wasted this nice gesture. Hicks had noticed her head wasn't in its place today, and sat her down here mug in hand, telling her to take it easy.

"Sorry," Skye mumbled a half-hearted apology at the older woman, who proceeded to shrug it off like an annoyance.

Hicks had averted her eyes already; she was staring at the fire, the lively way the flames moved and ate everything in their path hungrily. She threw in a branch, listened to the way it cracked in the fire while devoured. "Never mind," Hicks then commented faintly, appearing listless and distant.

They hadn't known one another for a little more than a week, but their daily exposure to one another had lead to Skye picking up on things, like routines and moods. Hicks had been nothing but friendly to her; she'd taken Skye under her wing and made sure Skye didn't have too much time for loitering, for thinking of the past and present. In Skye's book, this made her a friend.

"Hey," she whispered softly, gaining her friend's attention. Skye took notice of the way Hicks seemed haunted even now, sadness present in her hazel eyes. "Does it get any easier?" she asked, truly yearning for an answer that would help overcome this feeling of helplessness. Skye never seemed to stay a stranger for it for long; it kept creeping right back into her life one way or another.

Hicks dialed back on her emotions at that moment, brushing away her own jaded past and experiences. She chose to give hope instead, recognizing herself in the young woman before her. "You need to control your own past before you can control your future, Skye," she advised, raising a brow.

Skye watched her throw the piece of string she'd played with into the fire a moment later, and with it her mood seemed to change as well.

Curran had appeared behind Hicks, dark eyes cast on Skye. Something about it didn't ring true tonight, didn't feel comfortable, and Skye rose with suspicion to meet her friend, who she'd been avoiding all day as per Lucas' request. Despite arguing against it, she'd seen the wisdom in Lucas' request. It was better for things to cool down for now.

Hicks didn't pay attention to Skye standing up and walking towards Curran. She just chucked pieces of barn at the fire like ammunition, seeking to shoot them at something.

"Hey," Skye greeted Curran, pushing her hands in her pockets. She felt a bit awkward today, having been called out on her behavior by Lucas of all people.

"Can we talk?" Curran asked, shooting Hicks' back a discreet look. He seemed uncomfortable being near his former friend, and Skye couldn't blame him. Rumors had been running around since their very loud reunion some days ago, and as far as she knew, the two still hadn't talked since.

"I was hoping to hit the sack, but as long as you make it quick…," she said, frustration bleeding into her voice. She wasn't lying though; all she needed and wanted right now was a good night's sleep, although she wouldn't mind if it lasted for the next three days.

"Sure," Curran promised and motioned them towards Hicks' hut nearby for some privacy.

Skye grabbed a lantern outside before entering to light the dark. She was greeted by the stench of disinfectants upon entering, yet it passed quicker nowadays since she was working here daily. There weren't that many patients at the camp, so Hicks sent her on other assignments quite often, but when something came up Hicks always included her.

Curran followed Skye inside, watched as she placed the lantern on the table and shot him with a questioning look. She didn't like trysts in the dark, not when Lucas had specifically warned her against it, yet she'd grown accustomed to this place. She genuinely believed there was no danger; that someone would hear her if she screamed.

"So what was it?" Skye asked, feeling like a school kid sneaking behind the teacher's back to do something against the rules. Only this time the feeling weighted her down instead of exhilarating her.

He moved closer to her, an intense look in his eyes, something she'd never seen before. All the signs of alarm were there, ignored by her tired mind that _needed to be right_ about him after everything.

"What if I said there was a way for you and me to get back to Terra Nova?" he asked, his voice diminished into a whisper. It shook her awake, had her cursing silently, reminded of that nagging feeling she'd had and which she had ignored.

"Curran, I..," she started, not knowing how to finish.

"We're not safe here. You're not safe here, Skye," Curran hurried to explain, catching onto her hesitation. He read it differently though, seeing fear for things, certain people, she felt none for.

Amid the disappointment, slight anger even, she knew she needed to hear it all, find out how much damage he'd done if any. "What did you do?" she sighed, letting her lungs expel the distress from her; it didn't succeed, the pressure packed into her body more and more with each breath instead.

"We have leverage now. Taylor offered me sanctuary in return for Intel. And we both know he just wants you back safe and sound. Skye, he doesn't know Lucas is still fiddling with the calculations, or about this Morris guy! If we act quickly, they could even ambush the whole group at the Badlands, and it'd be all over. We'd be heroes, Skye," he explained to her, seeking for her eyes, her heart, her mind, with his words.

He could see her trembling with what he hoped was excitement, gratitude for giving her this way out. Curran reached for her hand with his, but she pulled it away, placed it on her heart, shaking her head. There was a pout on her lips, words were waiting to be spoken, but she lacked the will to speak them.

"It's ok, Skye," Curran said, understanding her hesitation. "You can come with me. You don't have to stay here, and you won't owe me anything. I just want you safe, because you deserve so much better than this," he explained, glancing around them sympathetically.

Skye wanted to back away, to scream from the top of her lungs and alert everyone, but this wasn't the way this was supposed to go! He was supposed to be this amoral killer, who wanted nothing more than to hurt everyone around him. He wasn't supposed to be someone this noble and concerned for her and with good damn reason too! And the worst part was that somewhere deep down she wanted to just take his hand and leave this mess behind.

Tears were in her eyes, uninvited guests in this situation. And she turned her face from the light to hide it, but he leaned in anyway, taking her jaw with his fingers, fingers brushing against her skin. Skye withdrew with a jerk, barely avoiding his lips that sought for hers. It didn't mean much that she'd missed the actual kiss, for it haunted her lips anyway, a ghost of a possibility touching her. She covered her lips with her shaking fingers, cleared her throat, and flinched as her back hit the table behind, leaving her caught between him and the table.

Clarity escaped him, replaced by bewilderment. This wasn't going the way he'd imagined, not at all. Curran had trouble grasping this, her unusual behavior. He'd honestly thought they had something here, shared a connection.

"I can't come with you," she finally uttered, sounding agitated. The way she looked at him beneath her wild hair was completely new, something vulnerable and aggressive at the same time.

"You don't have to be afraid of Lucas, Skye," Curran assured her, trying to move closer again, only to feel her extended arm push between them and keep him at a distance.

"I'm not afraid of him, Curran, I love him!" she finally confessed with a tainted voice, tears sneaking onto her cheeks.

The confession effectively stopped him, her, and everything around them. She watched him work it out in his head; how trust faded and suspicion crept in its place; how affection became disgust in just a few seconds. The shame of having fallen victim to her ploys determined his demeanor, a trace of aggression pushing aside her delusions of a happy ending where they could all solve things peacefully.

He averted his eyes from her, gasped barely aloud, something resembling a snicker escaping his lips next.

"He sent you to see if I could be trusted," Curran noted, returning his eyes to her.

She stiffened under their scrutiny, held her breath a bit too noticeably.

"You're not going to let me just go, are you?" Curran asked next, sounding downright vicious.

The implication was there, and although Skye wanted to deny it, it was true. She couldn't let him go, not when the Intel he had could put Lucas and Mira at danger. He read the answer on her face, disappointment shaking his body yet again, only milder this time.

"Which means, I can't let you go," Curran then commented, realizing the inevitability of the situation now. And while he didn't want it to be this person, the world was divided in those who were with him and those who were against him, Skye having chosen her side, and made her choice abundantly clear.

He slapped her extended hand from his way, breathing in anger at yet another rejection. Curran was already lunging at her before she had an opportunity to absorb his words fully. He came at her with a bit too much force, blowing the air out of her lungs as quietly as possible. But Skye was tricky prey; she slipped from his grip and threw herself on the ground, making a dive towards the nearest gun. She knew where Hicks kept her spare, and having seen lunacy flash in Curran's eyes, she didn't suspect one bit that things wouldn't get ugly now.

Skye was greeted by a kick to her stomach. It made her wail like an animal, gasp for air. She took the chance to scream her lungs out though, smiling feebly at the thought that someone would come now, that she only needed a few more minutes. Her joy was short-lived though as she heard the sound of him sheathing his knife above her and instead of crawling onwards, she turned to look at the man above her and the violent shine of his knife flashing when he moved.

She tasted blood in her mouth, the taste of her own mortality, while everything played like a slow-motion picture. It was a blur; how she saw someone push into the hut and between them. The two figures battled for control of the knife, knocking over the table and the lantern with it. Light and dark fought, shadows making no sense.

Skye reached for the gun in the crate by the exit, putting her everything into moving faster. Panic gave her strength; adrenaline pushed her into taking hold of the gun with surprisingly steady hands, and then pointing it at the fighting figures. But she only caught the part of the battle that mattered; the knife merging with the unintended victim, the blade sinking into flesh and tearing it with a sigh and a gasp, both uttered in surprise.

Tears burned her eyes as she watched Hicks fall without the knife, Curran still clutching it tightly in his grip, crimson all over his hands and the front of his shirt. Shock was all over his face, genuine regret present in his panicked eyes. It was different from before, different from planning things from afar. At least that way he could make himself believe it was almost like it had never happened at all. But this was real, this was tangible, and the warmth over his hands was life of the woman he'd laughed with, fought with and cried with.

But once he took notice of Skye again, saw the gun pointed at him, and the way the girl on the floor stared at him now, stripped of any sympathy she'd previously had, his grip became a squeeze, and his eyes regained focus in rage.

She saw him move, and she reacted accordingly. Skye pulled the trigger; she felt the gun recoil in her hands, her eyes closing as the deafening shot rang out. And she knew she shouldn't have, knew she needed to be stronger, but she closed them anyway, her instinct protecting her from the sight that would be etched into her mind forever. Curran fell backwards from the shot, his body slamming against the ground with a thump, the knife falling from his limp fingers.

He didn't move, and she didn't expect him to. At such close range, nothing short of a miracle could've saved him. Skye knew what she'd done was evil; she had no delusions about that. She also knew he'd rushed at her, knowing she could end it at any minute, choosing to be gunned down instead of surrendering. Curran had chosen this willingly, and she'd ended it with a clean shot, at least giving him the favor of a quick death.

A cry awoke her from her thoughts, made her lower the gun in her hands: Whimpers from the ground, not from Curran, but Hicks. She was still alive.

Skye heard noises all around them as the ruckus had awoken the camp from its usual slumber, but no one had made it inside the hut yet. She forced herself to move, to crawl towards Hicks in one final attempt to make things right.

"Hicks," she called weakly, trying her best to sound reassuring and strong, when in reality she was barely functioning herself. Skye pushed her on her feet, but they betrayed her, tossing her right back to her knees. She repeated the move though, this time succeeding in taking a few more steps to reach her friend's side.

Hicks was hyperventilating, her hand trying to stop the bleeding on her midsection. There was so much blood; Skye couldn't even make out where the wound was at first. She felt a wave of sickness pass through her once she realized Curran must've twisted the knife in the wound, judging by the size of it. Hicks didn't look responsive, her eyes were staring into the distance, only the sad sound of her ragged breathing convincing Skye she was holding onto life.

Skye pressed her hands against the wound, applying pressure, and watching with horror how it seemed to do no good. "You need to tell me what to do," Skye begged, "I don't know what to do!"

Hicks actually reacted to this, turning her head to Skye and smiling, like she'd told a joke. The interval between her distressed breaths suddenly decreased, and her breaths became fainter.

"… _nothing you can do_ ," Hicks winced, moving her bloodied hand over Skye's weakly. She brushed her bloody fingers over the back of Skye's hand gently, as if begging to be let go.

And her breathing slowed down some, and then some, before finally stopping altogether.

There were people inside the hut all of the sudden, hovering above Skye. She sobbed, refusing to stop applying pressure, her free hand trying to shake Hicks awake, to keep her conscious. She knew it to be futile, of course she did, yet she carried on anyway, joined by a silent congregation.

Carter positioned himself behind her, grabbing her by her armpits, tearing her away from the body casually. He tossed her aside, telling others to check the bodies, while he squatted by her. Skye didn't look away, not when they closed Hicks eyes, or fixed the table and brought in more lanterns to light the scene of the crime. She could hear Carter's questions, yet the answers escaped her, leaving her incapable of everything else but sobbing hysterically.

He slapped her once, twice, before realizing it wasn't going anywhere. Carter felt sorry looking at the blood smeared girl on the ground, and a thought crept on up him. Wasn't this their doing? Hadn't they pushed her into this by sending her back and forth time after time, and dividing her loyalties? Against his better knowledge, he tied his arms around her, letting go of the role Mira had trusted him with, and taking on a more familiar one.

"Wasn't your fault, Skye," he told her with a melancholy voice, and felt her sink into his arms.

TBC


	20. Adagio

Mira had offered to ride with Morris while the others occupied the second rover. She couldn't quite shake this incredibly bad feeling in her gut: this inkling that something was wrong. Morris instead seemed relaxed and comfortable with their nighttime drive and the company he was keeping. He leaned against the door, resting his head a bit while he tried to make sense of the glimpses in the dark scenery. Mira only saw the headlights: an endless road ahead of them, a nightmare she lived daily.

"I'm surprised with how well you and Lucas play together," Morris commented suddenly. He'd cast his intent eyes on her again, something she realized he did a lot, almost enough for her to have become accustomed with the stare.

"We have an understanding," Mira explained calmly. Morris had approached this subject quite a few times already, looking for cracks and weaknesses in their truce, yet finding none for the time being. It had to frustrate him that out of all the people he was focusing his energy on, she was the one who didn't get flustered because of his attention and hints.

"Are _we_ going to have an understanding?" Morris asked next. He wasn't acting petty though, merely somewhat disillusioned. He sounded like he actually wanted to be friends with her. Of course Mira had to consider it a mind fuck for the time being.

"I hope so," she responded honestly, really needing no more complications to the situation. If Morris could turn around and play nice with them, no one else needed to suffer.

He shifted in his head, rubbing his beard a bit and blinking his eyes to rid him of the tiredness. The past days had been rough. The people at camp stared at him curiously, their eyes begging for good news, for a break of some kind. But the more Morris loomed about in the Sixer camp, the clearer it became that the stragglers were settling into the jungle, into this timeline. They resembled a tribe rather than a ragtag group of mercenaries. It was unsettling.

Of course the real worry was Lucas Taylor, the man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. He seemed unwilling to finish what he had started. He'd given this jungle five years of his life along with his juvenile wishes and his passions. Now he was beginning to feel something again, something for this girl. And Morris figured it was only a matter of time before Lucas would refuse to fulfill his end of the bargain. That made Lucas Taylor an enemy, someone who wanted to trap them in the past.

"Do you have the spot marked I told you about?" Morris asked quietly, yearning to rid himself of these people and this strange vivid world that clashed with his memories of the dead future.

"The spot where we're headed? Marked by the coordinates your henchmen gave us?" Mira asked spitefully, having learned that Morris wasn't the only infiltrator who'd arrived to Terra Nova. "Yes, I have it," she then added.

Her protest was largely a quiet one. She'd known the man had leverage, and other spies placed in Terra Nova certainly fit the bill. Only God knew what they were ordered to do in the event of Morris' untimely death. But it further proved her point about simply ambushing him being a bad idea.

Morris noticed her displease; it shattered the illusion that perhaps this woman was the only trustworthy in the bunch. Mira wasn't overly clouded by emotion like the rest of them; she still had the ability to look at things from a business perspective. But even her sight was suffering from the fear for the wellbeing of others.

"Please," he noted with distaste, "Don't pretend such precautions aren't necessary."

Mira stiffened at the sound of his voice, the contempt, the hurt. How easy it would've been just to drive the rover off the road and leave him behind wounded? Her reason prevailed though. She knew better, so she settled to fantasize.

"You're really some kind of new breed of asshole, aren't you Morris?" she mumbled back at him, gripping the wheel a bit too hard. It wouldn't surprise her if he was doing all of this just because he liked to screw with people, not because their superiors had requested it.

They didn't speak again until they stopped for the night.

* * *

The following morning was a haze to Skye. She remembered everything with too many vivid details, with too much color and emotion, too much clarity. Carter had had one of the Sixers, a woman by the name of Kiaya, drag her to bed and hold her hand until she fell asleep. He'd excluded her from the speculation, the backwash, for the night. Any other time she might've felt angry, but now she was grateful.

They had washed her hands together, trying to clean the blood, rubbing it off her skin violently. For the most part they had succeeded, but it didn't make her feel any less dirty. She didn't know what to do anymore. Everything was in pieces. This was the price of her lies: someone always got hurt, and it wasn't her.

Now, as she stood in the tent that was lit by the breaking dawn, the signs of the struggle seemed less vicious. Without the blood no one might've even known what had happened here. She squatted near the point where she'd tried to help Hicks, where her blood was etched onto the ground.

"He wanted me to come with him, run from Morris and Lucas," Skye explained numbly. Her voice was the voice of someone older, someone who didn't embrace life without a care.

"When I told him that I had been lying, he became agitated. I wasn't thinking clearly, but I could sense that he wanted to hurt me," she continued, unwilling to look at the man listening to her words.

"Perhaps he just wanted to knock me out for a head start. Perhaps he wasn't trying to kill me." Her voice broke a bit, and she buried the rest of the sentence against the back of her hand, holding back tears.

"I couldn't take any chances, so I struggled, and I fell, and I screamed for help," Skye recalled.

"I didn't even see who it was. Their fighting was a blur to me while I reached for the gun. I think if it'd been anyone else, they could've pointed a gun at him by the entrance, had him back down. But _Hicks_ didn't carry a gun; she didn't think there was any danger here, at the camp." Again she faltered at the thought of her friend on the ground bleeding and gasping.

"I don't think he wanted to hurt her. They were friends once. I think that they struggled and the knife… I think it was an accident." Because he hadn't reacted like a homicidal lunatic, no, his reaction had been of pure pain.

"There was such shock in his eyes, such terror. After that, it was too late. He just wanted to die. So I pulled the trigger, because otherwise he would've stopped at nothing, until someone stopped him."

Her hand touched the ground, the dried blood. There was nothing here: No ghosts, no goodbyes.

Carter shifted a bit, clearly slightly uncomfortable listening to this. He'd wondered whether he should've called Mira back, yet something had kept him from doing that. He feared Morris would turn this situation into something it had never been: a weakness of their leaders, a strike against Skye, a thorn in their side that would divide their united ranks. He couldn't have that, not now.

"It was coming with or without you," Carter said calmly, knowing Curran would've been hunted down by any of them after this. "Don't blame yourself."

Skye rose to her full height, turning her gaze to Carter lazily. They shared a look, both expressing pain and suffering with a dull glare. Skye was the first to cast her eyes back into the ground defeated, and exit the tent in need of some fresh air.

It was fresh outside, just as lovely as always: bright, lush, comforting. She didn't receive any joy from walking outside though. Carter followed her without fail; he hadn't really left her alone since this morning, and she was grateful for that. They walked in unison for a moment, many eyes following their advance with silent curiosity from the sidelines. No one disturbed them though as they knew time was needed to mend the fresh wounds.

"What now?" Skye asked. She'd tied her arms around her chest, a vain attempt to feel protected when she could no longer feel secure here.

Carter walked by her in silence, thinking apparently. "We bury her. Tell Mira when she comes back," he suggested after a moment's contemplation.

She swallowed painfully, seeking for her strength. "And Curran?" she asked, her face painted by shadows as they stopped at a quieter spot beneath the trees.

Carter hesitated before he answered her truthfully, "For all I care he can rot in a ditch."

Something awoke in her eyes, the numbness and disillusion dissolved, a fire sparked in her. "No," Skye shook her head, placing her hand over Carter's. He eyed this gesture carefully, wary of her, knowing how good she was at turning situations to her own advantage. "We need to take him to Terra Nova. He deserves a proper burial," she then said to his amazement.

" _He doesn't deserve anything_ ," Carter growled coolly, unable to feel sympathy for the bastard who'd infiltrated them and murdered one of them, nearly killing Skye as well. He didn't understand how Skye was able to feel it either.

But Skye held onto her ideals, refusing to let go of them, even with this maelstrom at her core. "We're nothing better than beasts if we don't act like people. They will want to know what happened. What if they find his rotting body in a ditch somewhere one day? It'd be a declaration of war. Isn't it better to give Curran to them with a story? To be honest for once?"

Her suspicions and fears were calling for her to do the right thing this time. She spoke with eloquence, worded her thoughts with the utmost grace so that it reached even Carter's jaded sense of compassion. He stirred at her words, felt them corrode his senses.

"Why do you care?" Carter asked with a frown. He was showing her how he truly was; his core was laid bare in front of her. It would've been easy to abuse his moment of weakness, but she no longer willed her sweet tongue and clever words to delude others. She just wanted him to understand.

"If it were me, I'd want someone to recognize me for the person I was, not for the sins I'd committed," Skye confessed, letting the anguish swirl inside her. Her lips were swollen, her eyes teary once again, and her voice was broken.

She couldn't grin at her brutally honest words, not when she could still remember Curran as her friend instead of an unhinged assailant. In the few days they had known one another, he'd actually made her feel better about her choices, and given her reason to believe that people could make use of the second chances they'd been given. Of course now that thought felt useless, yet she clung onto it. It had been too late for Curran to change at his core; he hadn't accepted the banishment from Terra Nova, but she had. She still had a chance. She just needed Carter to prove to her that her faith in her new family wasn't unfounded, that they would do the right thing even when clouded by rage and sorrow.

"Very well then," Carter agreed, touched by her honesty. His voice was low, accepting. "Let's do as you say Skye."

She felt a small surge of elation. It actually made her feel better.

"But you're coming with me, and you're explaining this to Taylor, because you're the one he'll believe," he then continued, cautioning her against futile optimism. Skye froze, not having considered such a possibility. She looked back at Carter cautiously, as if inquiring if he was being serious. And he was.

"Fine," she agreed with a stilted expression after a moment's pause. "I'll do it."

* * *

The drive had lasted for hours. It was a chance to think things through, wallow in disgust over his easily flaring temper and his suspicions. Because all he could see was her heartbroken face, the way she'd childishly provoked him in their fight, and the way Skye had turned her back on him to hide her tears and hold onto the anger she'd felt. Those images were a dull knife in his chest; they caused him pain he hadn't understood.

She'd changed him, acted like a catalyst to speed the process of transformation. To him Skye had been a justification for his plans, his feelings, to his whole being. Reality wasn't as easy. Relationships weren't easy. He struggled with her because he couldn't be without her, and each victory was laced with defeat. Yet the person he'd been before her wasn't worth regressing to, which was why he carried on. So many setbacks, hurt emotions, conflicts and barriers he'd had to knock over to reach her, and no matter what he did, new ones just kept appearing.

Lucas carried his equipment with a jaded expression, skulking through the desert of the Badlands. The ground there was largely volcanic, the sun scorched everything and as far as the eye could see they were faced with a long wide view of nothing. Morris led them onwards patiently though; he followed the coordinates he'd been given, trusting them when others might've faltered. They'd left the cars behind awhile back, after Mira had announced they couldn't spare more gas if they wanted to get back to the camp.

There was a tension between Mira and Morris, but Lucas hadn't had a chance to ask what they had talked about during the drive. He suspected it hadn't been anything pleasant. Of course the revelation that Morris had been accompanied by other infiltrators that were lying in wait in Terra Nova, serving as backup for this vile man, hadn't been a nice one either. Somehow he just expected there to be more.

The air seemed to become more and more electric the farther they went. It brought a taste in Lucas' mouth, an anticipation he couldn't recognize. Morris hadn't talked about what they were looking for exactly, but Lucas had his doubts: Probably a resource of some kind, or any discovery that would hold value in the barren future. He carried onwards, trying to keep the images of Skye and Curran together from overthrowing his mind. Chaos prevailed though. He wasn't jealous by default, he just worried a bit too much about her safety since he was an established killer and she was leading him on. Would she be angry enough to hurt him by approaching Curran? No, but he couldn't vouch for Curran's smarts.

"What'll you do in 2129, Taylor?" Morris asked all of the sudden, shaking Lucas free from his oppressive fears.

"Continue my research," Lucas responded automatically. It used to be the truth a long time ago, before he'd become accustomed to the jungle, before he'd appreciated the harshness of nature, before he'd realized he didn't have a future in 2149.

"They're giving you enough money to do anything," Morris suggested, pushing with his inquiries.

"Maybe I'll buy _something_ ," Lucas noted with annoyance, uninterested in this topic. His reluctance told Morris everything he needed to hear though.

"I see," Morris noted. His interest in the topic vanished as quickly as it had flared in the first place.

Mira stepped between them at this time though, forcing both to concentrate on her sudden outburst.

"What the hell are we doing here Morris?" she snapped violently, even going as far as grabbing Morris' jacket sleeve for a bit. He quickly caught her hand with his, squeezing it inside his grip, his eyes drilling into her. The two fought a silent battle, each beginning to lose their cool after days of dancing around their differences.

"What are we looking for?" Mira continued to question harshly, refusing to back down now that she had Morris in her grip.

"I don't like your tone Mira," Morris simply responded, and held onto her wrist tighter. Discomfort turned to pain, annoyance evolved into anger. Before Carter had been there to break every encounter, but now he was a day's drive away, facing his own problems, and Mira felt her patience snake away from her as her enemy expected her to follow him into a desert.

Lucas, however, had continued walking. His interest was elsewhere, captured by the weird feeling that made every hair in his arms shoot up. Something was off here, just a little strange. And he sought for the source of his discomfort with his eyes, catching nothing out of the ordinary while the tensions rose between his companions.

"Cut the bullshits Morris," Mira demanded, putting every ounce of her authority in her voice. She was done beginning, done playing around.

Morris stared her down, weighing her usefulness, knowing she was the thing that had kept the fringe elements at bay for this long. On the other hand, he couldn't wait to see what the jungle had made her into. "I have nothing for you Mira," he responded with a sadistic smirk.

And then Lucas realized something. He put his duffel bag down and began searching through his while wiping the sweat from his brow. The others paid little attention to him; they were more concerned with the fabric of their fragile truce falling apart. Lucas found one of his instruments and clicked it on eyes cast on the needle that began showing him unusual readings straight off the bat. He took a careful step forward and then another, following his gut and the readings while the argument faded into the back of his mind, diminishing into a mere whisper.

He walked for a few minutes, straining off-course a bit. And he almost walked into a shallow crater when he didn't take his eyes off the needle as it began to go haywire. Lucas stopped just in time, teetering at the edge he hadn't noticed until now, and his eyes flew over the crater in disbelief. He lowered the instrument in his hands and absorbed the sight before him. For a moment he just stared at the view, let the shock sink in and become the truth.

"Stop!" he shouted back at his companions, drawing their attention to him. Mira and Morris forgot about their exchange, each putting more value on whatever it was Lucas was up to. Morris released Mira's hand and Mira sheathed her knife, stepping away from the operative.

Lucas looked down at the crater again, motioning the others to him. He then tied the instrument over his shoulder with its strap before he began his descent down the crater's side.

The crater was filled with things that didn't belong: the prow of a wooden ship, old skeletons of people and animals, a broken obelisk of some sort, a round metallic probe rusted around the edges, and lots of other small things he couldn't place immediately. Everything was hidden from the casual eye in the crater, buried in sand, wearied by exposure to sun and erosion. He could tell these things had been here for years, decades, some even a millennia.

But there was nothing at the center. It was bare.

Lucas knew better though, and he approached with care, holding the instrument with his extended hand. He watched as the needle danced a dance of madness across the screen before he stopped and lowered the instrument. Lucas turned to look at the others, who were standing at the edge of the crater, eyeing him and his findings with mixed feelings. Morris was the only one, who didn't look one bit surprised.

"We have another rift," Lucas then yelled back, stating the obvious for those who hadn't yet realized it.

* * *

The strangest thing was that the Sixers always had plenty of body bags. It was the one supply Terra Nova never failed to deliver them when they made an arrangement. Carter recalled watching Mira go through the supplies they had traded and then flaring at the sight of the new body bags Taylor had secured them for many times now. It was another of Taylor's methods for psychological warfare, Carter had assumed.

He had to wonder though if Taylor had ever expected to see one of his men return to him in one of these bags. Judging by the look on the man's face, he hadn't.

The Sixers lifted the body bag from their rover, carrying it to Taylor under the watchful eyes of Skye and Carter. Skye was standing close to Carter, their closeness marking him as her protector in the eyes of the crowd. Both stood with confidence, had a familiarity in their interaction to one another. A stranger might have taken them for friends, but everyone here knew better.

Skye hadn't changed yesterday's clothes; the bloodstains were there as a reminder of the tragedy. She was armed though, clad in Sixer clothing, barely indistinguishable from the others. It disturbed her former acquaintances; their eyes carried distrust as they realized who she really was. Carter was someone they all knew, a familiar face to hate, whereas Skye was somehow they hadn't wanted to see here.

Across them Nathaniel Taylor was standing with his men, observing Skye rather than the Sixers who were walking towards him. His expression revealed no emotion, but even Carter had realized that Taylor hadn't recognized Skye at first. The moment he'd placed this woman with his former foster daughter had been so clear to anyone watching; the revelation had stirred him to the bone.

Skye observed Taylor's obvious disdain while the Sixers worked, but she realized she wasn't that upset anymore. Seeing Taylor witness the results of his scheming was somehow gratifying. A small part of her remembered the shame she'd felt with the tracker, only now it was tenfold. She didn't even flinch when the Sixers backed down, and Taylor squatted to open the body bag, where Curran's motionless corpse greeted him.

Taylor covered his nose and mouth to repel the stench of the corpse. His demeanor didn't betray unease as he examined the body. Seeing Skye dressed as one of them had upset him more. His eyes sought for glimpses of her even now, while his mind fought to grasp this change in her. This girl, no, this woman was different in almost every way. She hadn't come to him as a captive, but as a leader. He could see how Carter stood by her side like a shadow, letting things run their own course rather than manipulating them himself.

He groaned and closed the body bag, standing up and looking at the two enemies in front of him. He didn't know what to think anymore. Everything had become more and more complicated every day since he'd found out Skye was a spy, and today was no different.

"Thank you for bringing him," he eventually settled to say. His voice was far from thankful though; anyone could see the crease around his mouth, the way he was tensed and discontent.

The arrangements for this meeting hadn't been easy, but Carter had come through for her. It was now that Skye was standing in this hot spot between two warring sides that she felt like losing her voice and courage. It was the way Taylor looked at her like a stranger that drove her insecurities wild.

"It wasn't an accident," Skye eventually said, drawing Taylor's attention towards her. His interest was piqued, he was judging what she was trying to accomplish.

"Curran thought I was in danger. He blew his cover and when he realized I wasn't on his side, he made a move against me. We fought, someone got between us and Curran killed her. I shot him," she explained emotionlessly, trying to silence the weaknesses, the doubts. Skye faced Taylor's shock and disgust openly, knowing now that truth wasn't all that mending.

"You killed him," Taylor said softly, as if tasting the words. He didn't seem like he knew what to think.

"You sent him to them, to betray them. I was caught in the crossfire. He nearly killed me," Skye clarified. She pushed her hair behind her ear, fidgeted with the holster on her belt. Everything about her spoke clearly of the anguish she was under. It took Taylor awhile to recognize the full extent of the hurt in her voice, and his eyes snapped at her sharply with the realization.

" _The man you sent to spy us nearly killed me_ , because I was standing in the way of his escape," Skye said again, this time with more conviction. She held him accountable. How could he trust a man he'd already deemed unfit to live in paradise once?

"Desperate measures…," Taylor responded with a gruff, albeit his iron mask seemed lost. Her words had gotten through. This hadn't been what he'd wanted.

The warm breeze swept over them. Guns remained in place, sad glances were thrown between Taylor and the girl he'd once considered a daughter.

"Lucas?" Taylor asked, showing a bit of vulnerability.

"Still angry," Skye answered, not knowing what else to say. Lucas carried that hatred with him. It was stronger than anything, stronger than his feelings for her.

"And your guest?" Taylor inquired, surprising Skye with his question. She stirred, shifted her weight a bit as she glanced at Carter, uneasy about answering this question in particular. He nodded at her.

"The root of all our problems," Skye then replied absent-mindedly. Something clicked in that moment, a half-remembered dream sneaking into her brain, a connection making it visible. Somehow it made things worse.

"We should go," Skye advised Carter, pressing her head and beginning their retreat.

"Skye," Taylor called to her, stopping her before she could leave. She looked back at him, recognizing his softness. "Your mother's awake," Taylor then said.

The effect was strange. He could see hope light in her eyes, the way this piece of information peeled the coldness from her and brought forth the girl he'd known. But this was for just seconds until she reverted back, as if realizing who she had sided with. Skye faced the knowledge with calmness, giving him a small nod of thanks.

"Take care of her," Skye responded simply. Then she let Carter lead her away.

Taylor was left behind at their rendezvous with his troops. He just stood there for a long moment. Everything had backfired. Just the thought that Curran had tried to hurt Skye was unbearable; he pressed his teeth together with rage. And hearing her talk about killing a man with such calmness, such detachment was a knife to the chest. He couldn't blame her, but he couldn't deny wanting to shake her awake from her numbness until she told him how she really felt.

The cruelest truth was that she had stood in front of him just like Lucas had, talking like nothing important had happened.

TBC


	21. Whisper to a scream

 

Minutes extended into hours until they were standing in the dark, lighting the crater with torches and waiting for Lucas to finish. Mira laid on the sandy edge of the crater comfortably, enjoying the feel of the smooth sand beneath her. Morris was lying beside her, also supporting his upper body with his elbows to get a clear view of Lucas at his work.

Tensions had been on the rise today between them, but things had settled down a bit since Lucas' discovery. They had left the others to work whilst playing a lazy game of cards on the sand until the light had died out. Now they just watched, hidden in the dark, outside the protective ring of the torches, as both liked the anonymity of the shadows better. Mira couldn't lie though; she shivered because of the cold, wanted nothing more than to lie down with closed eyes.

Her sleep had been restless since their journey had started, and she didn't know why really. Morris had made no indication that he would harm her as she was a good ally to keep, yet his closeness made her extremely vexed. She missed _home_ : the camp with all of the others, their nocturnal noise, and the warmth on everyone's face when she addressed them. Morris reminded her of how it'd been in the future. The world was cold then, poverty and disease raged rampant and Mira had had her share of misfortunes, even living on the streets for a brief period.

She kicked the sand off her boots for a second, trying to find a better position, yet the chill found her again, and her movement caught Morris' attention as well. They shared a look; he even appeared concerned before he tossed her his jacket that he'd kept beneath his head. Morris didn't make a big deal out of the gesture, he just watched as Mira stared at the piece of clothing on her lap with proud eyes, unwilling to accept any handouts from him.

After awhile he settled to a new position and moved his hand beneath his head, relaxing seemingly in her presence. Mira then took the jacket begrudgingly and pulled it over her shoulders. It reeked of him, reminded her of the only other person she'd ever allowed to take care of her: Carter. She returned her gaze to Lucas hastily, refusing such thoughts.

There was a glow to Lucas, an enthusiasm that was catching. He'd become emerged in his work, in this research he conducted largely through trial and error. He didn't have equipment suited for this kind of work, yet he tried to learn as much as possible, finding a side of him he'd thought he'd lost a long time ago. The discovery seemed to bring life to him, free him of the dark thoughts he'd been keeping as of late.

Mira suspected the joy was short-lived though. It wasn't in the cards for them to control this position. She lacked the manpower to defend this, and Lucas alone wasn't enough to get this fracture put to use. Whatever the Company wanted with the second fracture, she was afraid it would involve a gamble that would put her people in danger needlessly.

The sound of Morris shuffling the cards in his hands distracted her from Lucas, drawing her eyes upon the enemy again. He flipped a single card out of the deck with just one hand and watched it rise above the rest. It was the queen of spades.

"What are you trying to achieve?" Mira asked him softly. Her patience was growing thin with his subtle hints and confusing body language.

Morris chuckled at her, tossing the card at her. It ended up stuck in the sand facing Mira. She could see a flash of his teeth in that smile. "Passing the time, Mira. Just passing the time," he responded, a hidden challenge standing out in his voice.

Another low breath of wind pushed at them, reminded her of the deceptiveness of the Badlands. In some nights the temperature got well below zero, and in the morning the sun scorched everything in its way. Nothing survived here for long.

She picked the card from the sand, brushed her thumb over its worn surface as she leaned over her knees, seeking warmth. The queen in the card was regal and prideful; she carried a blade in her hands, a spark in her eye. The queen of Spades was Athena, the ancient goddess of wisdom. Was that how Morris saw her?

"He's not going to open that portal for you or for me," Morris then told her, casting a long glance at Lucas. He sounded contemplative, but not bitter.

Mira wanted to stay quiet even as the option made her insides scream. She wanted to be on Lucas' side more than anything; she owed him as much. But in the end, old debts were poor substitutes for blood, for love. The love of a parent was potent, primal. It exceeded everything else. And Mira had promised Sienna she would be back for her.

"It's possible," Mira murmured in approval, hating herself for even entertaining this conversation.

Morris glanced at her discreetly, finding solace in her begrudging concession of his ideas. "What will you do?" he then asked, flipping the deck in his hands and snapping out another card; it was the queen of hearts.

"He will have to say it to my face," Mira answered with conviction. She was truly an iron maiden, someone you didn't dare to cross unless you had no other choice.

" _She_ will not allow him to harm Terra Nova," Morris then announced, and sent the card flying at Mira. It landed by her feet, grains of sand falling over the red queen eagerly. She held a heart in her hand, and her expression was softer. In the back of her mind Mira recalled the omen that was related to woman associated with this card, Judith.

Mira swallowed painfully. The thought of harming Skye Tate had become more and more difficult. She hadn't wanted to care about this girl, it was something she'd been fighting for three years, and yet her heart had crumbled at the sound of this girl pleading for her mother in her sleep. Her throat felt incredibly dry suddenly as she reached for the card by her and picked it up.

"And she has her protectors. She is so likable, that young woman," Morris continued to muse. Another card was separated from the deck, this one appearing a bit more torn and weathered than the rest, and he flicked it at her like the rest.

The knave of spades stared back at her, loyal and unflinching. Mira sighed. Morris didn't miss anything; he was too perceptive for their games. Her lips twitched at the sight of the knave, who'd been folded in the middle. The card had suffered abuse, but remained intact, protecting the red queen whenever needed.

"Carter can do whatever he wants," Mira settled to answer, although she wasn't pleased with the way Carter had taken a liking to the younger woman. She already had two men head over heels in love with Skye Tate to worry about, and she was certain they would case enough problems on their own.

Morris sat up, bringing the cards to his lap. He stared right at Lucas' back as he spread the deck in the sand in front of him and flipped a single card, revealing the king of clubs. He was a cruel man, ruthless in appearance and a visible hunger upon his features. It was the face of a conqueror.

He was about to push the deck back in order, when Mira's hand landed on his as she leaned over to him, eyes stuck on the card on the sand. Morris stopped what he was doing, and looked at her instead. Deceivers, heroes, thugs, thieves and mad men – the deck had a face for everything, but it was rare for him to offer compliments. His eyes followed her hand to the edge of his jacket that covered her skin and then back as she flipped another card and then another, searching for the right one. Morris had given his appreciation to this woman from the first time they had met, and he was still certain she'd earned it, whether she turned out to be an ally or a foe.

Mira lingered near him, knelt in the sand, flipping cards and focusing on this subtle mind game he'd started. Then she found what she was looking for, and placed the card right in front of him, defiance visible on her face. It was the king of diamonds, which alluded to none other than Caesar.

Mira looked straight at him now, leaning closer and whispering, "I've been stuck in hell with a deck of cards and enthusiasts who wanted nothing more than to tell me about history and myth involving the game." She recalled the countless lessons she'd gotten: roles of kings and queens, the people depicted in them. She'd heard about it until she could think of nothing else.

He grinned, impressed with her.

"Your hints aren't exactly subtle, Morris," she then hissed, pulling back and tossing the cards at his face in her anger. But she was angrier at herself than him, for allowing him to pull her in his wake for awhile, for actually listening to this serpent.

Mira then stood up and dropped his jacket from her shoulders, choosing to walk back to the others. She left Morris sitting alone. He gathered the cards she'd thrown, piled them in a neat deck and went right back to lying comfortably on the sand. Morris stared at the stars above, barely bothered with his botched attempt at showing Mira what needed to be done. She'd made her choice.

But Mira walked right up to Lucas, hands tied around her shoulders, fingers rubbing warmth into her skin. "Is it anything we can use?" Mira asked him tentatively, speaking to him for the first time in hours.

Lucas stirred a bit, turning to her like he hadn't even noticed her here until now. He'd rolled up his sleeves, there were sketches all over, and he was biting down to a pen with his teeth. He removed the pen from his mouth, glancing at Morris suspiciously, and then returning his eyes to Mira.

"No," he then admitted. "Not with our resources."

Mira pressed her head down in defeat. They had wasted hours here, and Morris had gladly entertained that futility. Why?

"Pack up, we're going back," Mira then advised with a muffled voice.

Lucas looked surprised and he frowned almost immediately. "Are you sure?" he asked, clearly willing to examine his findings more.

"It's time to go home," Mira settled to announce before walking away, and motioning the rest of them into motion.

Morris didn't react to her commands, he just star-gazed eagerly. It had been enough, he was sure of it.

* * *

They buried her with silence. The cavalcade had been silent, their walk full of reverence. And on her grave they planted a tree, a seed of a new beginning. Skye saw many other graves, the saplings that marked them. Theirs was a violent life, often too short to be remembered. That is why they carved their names into the old tree trunk, this dead thing at the centre of their graveyard.

Skye approached the dead tree, knife in hand. She began carving slowly, but the action became more violent and jarring as she progressed. The Sixers had no religion, just custom. Their customs were an odd mix of tradition, sense and sensibilities. No one got buried with anything they could use, there were no headstones, nothing to identify the bodies with. But the tree remained at the center of it all, an unyielding testament to the people buried in its shadow.

Once she was done carving the message, Skye stopped to read the other names on the tree. There were many here, too many. She could see people had also carved personal sentiments into the wood, and her eyes swelled with tears again. She wiped them in the sleeve of her shirt and passed on the knife to the next person in line.

This was a strange forest. At first glance you couldn't tell it was any different from the rest, but with some contemplation the trees appeared a bit too organized around the old tree. There were spots where the trees were young and vigorous, and a lot of saplings around them. Death brought with it a promise of a new beginning.

Their elegy was mostly silent. There were no speeches, no words of solace. Death was a common occurrence with the Sixers, yet every one of their dead was remembered. And following this unseen script somehow made it all bearable. Of course there were tears, there was sorrow, and there was anger, but those emotions were kept in check until they left the burial site.

Skye found herself wondering if Curran would get a soldier's funeral, if the cannons would sound for him, if they would pull up the flags and salute him. In Terra Nova people would wear their funeral clothes, eat food, listen to others talk and grief together. But with the Sixers grief was personal, and everyone was first and foremost a member of this community instead of being an individual. Their headstone was a dead tree, their graves indistinguishable.

Skye stayed up with the most of the camp that night. The burned a pyre in the woods, the smoke rose into the skies and showed miles away. It was reckless, but at least the fire was far from the camp. Carter had had others go through Hicks' things earlier and now they burned what couldn't be used by others. There were a few photos, an old journal, and some ruined clothes. Skye held a bundle of Hicks' necklaces in her hands, contemplating whether she ought to burn them too. Eventually she decided against it.

The fire burned for hours, eventually dying when it had nothing more to feed on. Skye fell into her bed, Lucas' bed, sometime later, forgetting to undress herself first. The exhaustion claimed her soon after, nightmares paved the way for a restless night.

* * *

Morris eyes were cast firmly into the scenery during the entire ride back. He didn't attempt to rekindle the conversation with his hostess, or even keep up the pretense that everything was alright. Instead he played with the cards in his hands, pulling cards from his sleeves, making them disappear and reappear in the deck – anything to keep his hands occupied and his thoughts in one place. Mira didn't object.

Lucas slept most of the way, exhausted by his earlier enthusiasm to explore the second fracture. It was strange that he felt more comfortable in a moving vehicle than in one of his safe houses, but it was a remnant of the past, of the life he'd led moving from one place to another because of his father's career. Of course nothing had given him such sweet rest as sleeping with Skye did: the feel of her body, her scent, her warmth – Lucas hadn't thought he could miss it so much.

It was a misty day. The temperature had dropped rapidly during the night and clouds had gathered in the sky. The mist seemed to seep from every pore of the earth, it pooled on the surface, gathered where ever it could. It made their return all the more ominous. Even the dinosaurs seemed to avoid their small convoy and lurk in the woods instead.

By the time they reached the camp, they only had a few hours of daylight left. Mira drove their rover to a distant spot and left Morris without as much as a word. Once out of the car, she begun advising the others on how to strip the rovers of supplies and where to carry the few items they had brought back with them.

Lucas had woken up some time prior, and was still feeling a tad groggy from his sleep. He stood by the rovers, not knowing what he should do. Morris had exited the rover as well and he leaned against its door, folding the deck of cards in his hands with a frown. He didn't seem his usual self now, not since yesterday.

Of course word of their return reached the camp quickly, and many hurried towards them with mild greetings and enthusiasm. Mira couldn't quite make sense of their apathy until Skye Tate appeared into view and her wrathful eyes found Mira and then Morris. Mira sensed the danger in an instant, and her brain urged to step in the middle of it, but she was tired of playing the police, so instead she just continued to haul the equipment away from the rovers.

Lucas noticed Skye in the crowd and his expression softened for a second with recognition and adoration. It was short-lived when he realized Skye wasn't even looking at him, but that her rather aggressive focus was completely on Morris. Skye launched into motion, striding towards Morris before anyone could act. The operative noticed her approach, yet mistook it for enthusiasm to see her lover and ignored it. It gave her the perfect chance to connect her first with his face as soon as she reached him.

The smack was enough to draw everyone's attention. The punch burned Skye's hand, pain flashed on her face and engulfed her fingers, but the satisfaction of seeing his bloodied lip was reward enough. And his very clear surprise confirmed her suspicions.

"You son of a bitch!" she yelled at him, facing the bewildered man head-on. It didn't take Lucas more than few seconds to force himself between Skye and Morris, and warn his associate with a stern look against retaliation.

Morris sucked the blood from his lip and spat, barely phased b y the punch at all. His grin had a mean dimension to it though, a cruelness none of them had witnessed before.

"Careful there miss Tate," Morris mumbled, feeling his jaw and cheek, where she'd punched him. He took twisted delight in the fact that she'd probably injured herself worse than him – at least her fingers appeared like they might be broken.

Lucas tried to claim Skye's eyes, but she was too far gone in her rage, she stared right past him. "It was me, wasn't it?" she roared at Morris. "You went to Curran and scared him shitless, because you wanted him to make a move on me!"

Lucas tensed immediately and turned to Skye, recognizing the signs of injury in her only now: Fresh bruises, a jaded expression. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her until she looked back at him. "Are you alright? What happened?" he inquired, while Morris merely smiled behind him.

Her eyes cast on Morris, Skye explained everything with a disillusioned voice, "Curran came to me. He thought I was in danger, and said we needed to go to Terra Nova, that he had a deal with Taylor. When I refused he panicked and attacked me."

She drew a painful breath, tears snuck into her voice. "And Hicks stepped in to help and he stabbed her! He stabbed her to death Lucas!"

Mira's eyes were wide with shock. She took a couple of stilted steps forward, unable to believe her ears. And she looked around them for someone, anyone, who'd tell her it was a sick joke, just a lie. It wasn't. The truth was on every face that observed this exchange.

Lucas was boiling with rage. He'd known, he'd felt it in his gut. "Where is he?" he inquired.

"I shot him," Skye said, the final revelation sinking into Lucas with a bang.

His grip faltered, his mistakes haunting him suddenly. He'd left her here alone, at the mercy of Curran, forced her into this position by giving her the damn assignment in the first place! Guilt was all over his face, but his body responded when Skye tried to push past him to have another go at Morris; Lucas' hands were suddenly around Skye, restraining her while she tried to struggle free.

"You fucking piece of shit pushed him! You wanted him to snap!" she accused, screaming her voice hoarse. Her voice was partly buried in Lucas' chest, as he held her close, stroking her hair and her back while she tried to hold onto the negative energy that sustained her. This rage was so ugly, so destructive – for the first time Lucas recognized it for what it was.

Mira stepped in at this point. "Lucas, take her away," she commanded, leaving no room for objections. There were tears in her eyes, and she'd brushed several tears from her cheeks already. She looked at Morris with harshness, leaving Skye's accusations hanging in the air without trying to rebuff them.

Lucas listened to Mira with this and began hauling the kicking and shouting girl in his arms away, while Carter moved to his spot to support Mira, appearing as serene as always.

Mira and Morris shared a look, a charged wordless exchange. Then he pulled a card from the deck, flashing a smile at her. It was the knave of hearts, although the face of the knave had been severely scratched; you could barely make you who it was supposed to be.

Morris watched Mira's muscles tense at the sight of the card, this obvious admission of guilt, before he moved to walk by her and stopped to whisper in her ear, "Was that subtle enough for you?"

He then continued his walk past her, leaving her behind to suppress her anger and grief. She held back a sob and then another until the worst was past. But no matter how hard she tried, the tears wouldn't leave her eyes, and when Carter's fingers brushed against her shoulder, she turned to him and let him bury her in an embrace.

Carter held her tight; let her break down in the face of this senseless tragedy without losing face. He caressed her back with assuring motion, felt her tears on the front of his shirt. But Mira made no sound, her grief was silent.

"She was a good woman," Mira finally breathed, barely loud enough for him to hear. She didn't pull away, just stayed as she was, letting his closeness drive away the rest of the world.

"Yes she was," Carter replied.

* * *

Further away Lucas had finally gotten Skye to calm down and stop pounding his chest with her fists. He grabbed her hand from her wrist and took a look at her hand, sighing with disappointment almost immediately. Her middle finger was already swollen and bruised, and it looked sensitive to touch as well. Adrenaline had to be blocking the pain for now, but if she kept at it, she could hurt it worse.

"Don't ever do that again," he told her, worry blinding him to everything else. The grief and the deaths seemed distant to him when all he could see was Skye doing the very thing they had warned her against since Morris' arrival. You just didn't kick the hornet's nest!

Skye looked worn, joyless. She acknowledged the reason behind his worry, but couldn't help feeling this way.

"I asked Bael what Morris was doing before leaving. I hear he had a nice long conversation with Curran," she explained numbly. Bael had been on Morris' tail since his arrival, taking turns in watching their guest with a few others, and he'd been more than willing to discuss Morris' movements with Skye, as well as the few things he'd overheard.

"Did you see his face?" she asked next, pointing her unscathed hand at the direction they had come from. "The bastard did it Lucas," Skye explained. "He provoked Curran, thinking I would either show my true colors or get killed."

Lucas' attention was on her hand though. He was still holding it carefully, observing her middle finger. She flinched in pain once he moved his hand to her fingers and tried to manipulate their position a bit to examine their condition. It was becoming quite clear that she had a fracture in her finger. Gladly, the other fingers seemed just a tad banged.

"Who taught you how to punch, Bucket?" Lucas asked with a lighter tone, running his fingers over her hand to balance the pain he'd caused her when he'd examined her finger. The effect this simple contact had on Skye was visible; she slipped out of her anger and into a mood of confusion and desire. Lucas swallowed when she didn't answer his quip, recognizing that it wasn't so easy to fall into old habits.

"I think you broke it," he then assessed.

Skye knew he was right; she was the one with the medical experience after all. She'd had to split many injuries like this back at the infirmary. Usually the splint had been enough when coupled with rest for a recovery, but every once in awhile Doctor Shannon had had to perform surgery as well.

"It needs a splint," Skye replied after a small pause.

He was still holding her hand. Their fight seemed distant and unrelated. It was better to be together than apart, even when it hurt, even when the pressure outside felt like too much. They both recognized this.

"You were right," she admitted, having held this guilt inside her for two days now. "I played with fire and got burned."

Lucas didn't feel right. He didn't feel satisfaction or a sense of victory, just empty. "It was wrong to put you in that position and I shouldn't have left," he then countered her confession.

Skye inched closer to him, felt him release her injured hand as she pressed herself against him, sinking into his embrace. She'd never felt as alone as she had that night. Even with everyone's sympathies and assurances that she'd done the right thing, she hadn't been able to convince herself of the fact. But with Lucas here she could finally just be.

Lucas held her tight, raked her hair comfortingly and just stood there unwavering. Something was swelling inside him, knowledge of how things should be and what he needed to do to achieve this. He was done playing by the rules, lying in wait for another catastrophe. "Skye?" he called her, felt her respond to his voice and becoming attentive.

"This won't happen again," he assured her. "I'm going to make a deal with him."

Skye believed him.

"But I need you to stay out of the way. He won't hesitate to use you against me, if you step up again," he then begged her.

TBC


	22. The New Deal

Lucas walked Skye to the infirmary, felt her stiffen at the sight of the lone hut, the place of slaughter that was now forever etched into her memory. He didn't try and force her forwards when he realized why she was suddenly unresponsive, he settled to observe her instead. Skye's eyes were made of glass, she seemed lost. Even the pain in her throbbing finger vanished for the moment.

"Skye," he called her, waking her from her thoughts. She stirred and shook off the confusion and the darkness that had sought to emerge. Drops of sweat had risen to her forehead, her skin felt flustered. Lucas didn't force the issue, just pulled her hand towards him to get her to walk again.

She let him take her inside the hut, but she didn't go inside fully, choosing to linger at the doorstep instead. Lucas realized her reluctance, but made nothing of it. He searched the medical supplies for everything they needed, gathered the necessary items in his hands.

Skye couldn't seem to keep her eyes at any one spot, couldn't turn her back at the doorstep, almost like she was expecting someone to burst in here through it. Seeing her like this made his heart heavy, reinforced the decision.

"Hey," he called to her, smiling at her. "Do you need anything else?"

She shook her head, eager to leave already. The dark shadows beneath her eyes were the testament of this ordeal's effect on her. Hidden scars, restlessness, that hollow gaze – all were familiar signs to Lucas. He nodded to her approvingly and guided them out then, recognizing what he needed to do. He noticed her breathing deeper outside, like relief was returning to her body after a prolonged moment of breathlessness.

Lucas motioned one of the Sixers to him, leaned in to whisper something into his ear. The man's name was Villiers, and Skye remembered hearing he was a genuine soldier of fortune (not that you'd believe in the gentle way he often looked after the kids at camp). Skye saw him disperse quickly after he and Lucas exchanged knowing looks, but she didn't ask about it. The pain was back, and the sun had begun its retreat in the horizon. She just wanted to lay by him for awhile.

He led them to his hut, lit the lantern on the table and sat her by it. At this point Skye tried to argue she was more qualified to splint the finger, but he didn't listen to her. Lucas manipulated her finger, checked the others as well to see how bad it was. She gripped the table as he did this, blocked the pain by gritting her teeth, pushing back the moans of pain. Lucky for her it had been just her middle finger.

Skye rolled her eyes at him when he explained to her how glad he was that this might slow her down for awhile, keep her out of trouble. He then proceeded to splint the finger after rubbing a lotion on her finger that helped with the swelling. They didn't exactly have ice here in the jungle, but the lotion helped in every temperature. It stung at first, spread a prickling sensation on her skin, but by the time he started to splint the finger, it already felt much better.

Silence prevailed while Lucas worked on her injury. Despite the kind words before and the understanding they'd had, neither knew where to even begin sorting everything out. Skye avoided looking him in the eye, while Lucas scanned her for more subtle signs of trauma, shock. Having been through horrible things, he just knew this had left a mark on her.

When he was finally done, Lucas placed his hands over hers to warm them. Her fingers felt ice cold underneath his. Skye was staring at the wooden desk, at the carvings she'd made. It reminded her of the other wooden surface she'd carved, of the message she'd left Hicks.

"Bucket," Lucas called to her. Skye's eyes snapped to him immediately.

"We need to talk about it," he then told her, bringing his hand to her cheek, feeling her shiver beneath his touch. Tears followed this contact eagerly, filling her eyes.

"I killed someone Lucas," Skye told him. She leaned into his touch, enjoying the comfort him being here. "It's not going away. Not with any justification."

He pushed himself closer, both his hands on her cheeks now. Her tears fell on his hands, but his hold was strong. Lucas appeared determined to convince her, show her the light in the darkness she was engulfed in.

"I used to think that too," he whispered, jade eyes glowing with pain. "That if I had given my life my mother could've lived."

She listened to him fully now, trying to read into his expression. Just the feel of his thumbs caressing her cheeks drove away the poison in her gut, the burning sensations guilt left behind.

"Survivor's guilt is tricky. It's like a cloud that covers everything. But I need you to believe me when I tell you that _you didn't have a choice_. Your choice was robbed from you," he then explained to her.

"I just don't see a happy ending anymore," she confessed. "I keep trying to think of ways to get through this, but no matter what, someone always gets hurt."

And she was about to say more, about to bury him in words, in destructive thoughts. Lucas beat her to it by kissing her. Their lips crashed together violently, Lucas fighting to reassure her and Skye eager to take every reassurance she could get. He held her head with his hands, his fingers sunk into her hair, released it from its hold. Skye brought her healthy hand to his neck, ran her fingers across his scars, eliciting a toothy grin from him.

Her pain melted into a hurricane of emotions, desire fuelled her. Even with everything going to hell around them, this made her feel alive. Lucas pressed soft kisses on her lips, her nose, and her forehead. He pressed his own forehead against hers, closing his eyes for a moment to breathe in deep. Skye pushed her lips against his anxiously, unwilling to back out. She inhaled his scent, pushed her tongue into his mouth to drown her senses with his taste as well. It disconnected her from the painful reality, from her own body.

He pulled her closer from her waist, felt her push onto his lap from her chair. But when he looked up at her, there was no smile on her face. Lucas froze. Skye tried to kiss him again, but Lucas took hold of her face instead, keeping her at a distance.

"I'm going to fix everything Bucket," he promised her. "Not just Morris. I mean everything."

Skye examined Lucas with awe. Was this really the same bitter and angry man she'd encountered once? Was he the same man, who'd let his hate define him? Did Lucas finally admit that the terrible events in Somalia hadn't been anyone's fault? This hope was brighter than any word of consolation or justification. Skye held onto it.

Skye rested in his lap, facing him with sad eyes. "It's not the same… I mean, with your mother," she said, looking down at him. Lucas brushed her hair behind her ear when it tried to block his view of her face.

"It's the same," he reassured her. "I saw your face Bucket. I know the need to blame someone other than you. But I can't lose you to such darkness. I won't."

Skye blinked, bewilderment spread across her body. That lump inside her, a place she'd buried her hopes concerning Lucas and his father, unraveled. It unleashed something, a reaction she didn't recognize, and dispelled the lust from her system. The self-pity washed away as she looked at him. Skye lifted her hand to his face, cupped his cheek and felt his hand move over hers.

"Are you saying…," she swallowed between her sentences, nearly losing her voice, "that I can't become like you?"

That was it, wasn't it? He didn't want anyone to go through what he had. To see her survive only because she wanted revenge, because she needed to hate something to sustain herself, it would kill him. Maybe he understood what she saw in him now, what had driven her to betray him.

"When you hit him, all I could see was me, crazy from grief. My father didn't make it possible to hold onto him when my mother died; he made it easy to hate him," he recalled. For once, Lucas' voice didn't shiver nor did anger emerge when he spoke of his father. Actually he sounded almost tranquil.

He slid her hand to his lips from his cheek, and kissed her hand palm gently. "I'm here for you Bucket. You don't need to take that road," he told her, truly meaning every word.

It was true. Hatred had been easier than feeling grief without end. Hatred had been easier than wallowing in pity or dealing with what had happened. Because Morris was an outsider she didn't feel anything but resent for; because she was a murderer now and Morris deserved death.

She cast her eyes down, finding his devoted stare just too much at this time. A moment later she hugged him with both arms, tying them around him as carefully as possible. She pressed her body close, landed her jaw on his shoulder and held him tight.

"I'm with you, Lucas," she said.

All of this had been impossible from the start. It had sparked from a random encounter one beautiful day. And the spark had survived six months of separation, the lies told in fear, the actions taken because of it. The spark had remained, grown into love against the odds. Skye recognized it was madness, that things could've gone wrong so many times already.

But for the first time she considered that maybe they hadn't lied to one another that day on the Falls. She'd been more honest to him than anyone. He'd shown her a side of him no one seemed to know. Everything that had come since hadn't changed the people they loved. Actually they'd just given each other the chance to be who they really were in the open. She was fearless and capable, freed from the chains that had previously held her down. He was caring and responsible, no longer pushing everyone away because he was too scared to trust others.

There was a knock. Lucas let her go, turned to look around his shoulder while she climbed off him. She was curious about the intrusion as well. Lucas rose to his feet and walked to the entrance, finding Mira behind it.

She looked listless and mute, nothing like her usual self. Her eyes scanned Skye, yet it wasn't an assessment of threat, but a genuinely worried inquiry. Once she realized Skye was alright, her posture became more relaxed.

"I think it's time," Mira told Lucas, speaking of something she considered unfortunate. Lucas placed his hand on her shoulder reassuringly, actually offering solace to her for the first time and without a hidden agenda.

"I'd say it's well past due," he then answered, and they shared a knowing look between two allies. It made Skye feel like things could turn out good again.

* * *

Cards followed rules, rules were predictable. People didn't follow rules, but they were so very predictable once you had them pegged. His purpose here was to read the people, see what rules they followed and then fix it. But the thing was people didn't follow his rules, cause and effect didn't meet his intensions with so many variables.

Morris took a swig off the bottle, anointed his lips with the alcohol. It wasn't much, just enough for a taste. The surface of the bottle fell. He placed the bottle by his – Carter's – desk and continued to deal the cards in his private game. Queens and jacks embraced, the kings were unwanted. He made one move and another, mind engulfed in other things completely.

His cheek was supporting a bruise, his jaw was tender. Skye Tate had packed a punch with her untrained hand whether she'd known how to inflict maximum damage or not. But what really had him thinking was Mira. Her support could've ended everything. For a moment there, Morris had felt her uncertainty, her willingness to join him. She'd slipped away though, choosing these people over her child, placing her trust in someone she really shouldn't have.

Everyone here was _different_ ; it was the root of his problem. Even little Skye Tate wasn't the easily manipulated teenager she was supposed to be. They had constructed a castle of cards carefully before he'd come here, made a plan, issued the orders. Now that castle was falling apart, because apparently there were too many variables, too many rules to consider.

Outside rain pounded against the wooden platforms, playing a melancholy tune. According to Mira they were approaching the rainy season, that the rivers flooded and the wildlife escaped the risen water levels to new territories. They moved the camp fully into the trees this time of year to avoid animals wandering into anyone's hut at night. Mira had warned her he might need to share his hut with someone if he was still here. Morris fully planned to still be here.

A presence shook him from his thoughts, a breeze of wind, something disrupting the fall of the water. Morris turned a bit hastily, grasping his gun that rested in his lap while his eyes scanned the entrance of the hut. Lucas Taylor stood right behind him, hands in the air, peace on his lips. It didn't make Morris turn his gun from him, but it killed the tension somewhat.

"It's time we talked," Lucas said with conviction, stepping inside carefully. Morris raised a surprised brow at this; he hadn't expected Lucas to come up to him like this. Fear over the safety of his girlfriend had to be driving him to recklessness.

Lucas was wet; his skin glistened with moisture in the lantern's light. He didn't seem to carry a weapon, but Morris was certain it was simply concealed. Water dripped down from Lucas' boots into the hut. The rain water had a unique stench, sharp like freshly cut grass.

Morris gave him a nod and pointed him at the seat on the other side of the desk. Lucas followed this sign of admission and took the seat, fully aware that he had a gun pointed at him through-out this.

For a moment they just stood there, staring at one another, evaluating. Morris dealt another hand into his game, showing no signs of nervousness or distress. He appeared even more driven and devilish in the lantern's light. His olive skin was darker, his eyes more focused and the tattoo on his arm was more vicious. Lucas knew he was physically more imposing, even if Lucas had spent five years in the wild. Morris was disciplined, strong in ways that he couldn't conceive. Words were a weapon more suited for him in this fight.

"We need to renegotiate," Lucas stated, crossing his hands on the desk.

"You need to get your act together and work on those calculations, Taylor," Morris responded. He'd leaned back on his chair, and was eyeing Lucas suspiciously now. Then a smile curved over his lips as he licked the alcohol from them slowly. "Unless you want to admit they've been done ever since I arrived?"

Lucas didn't react visibly. It was the truth though. He had been buying time, unwilling to open the gate until he knew what to do next. He could've prevented everything, but he'd wanted to know more.

"They're sound now," Lucas responded, ignoring the taunt and insight Morris had shown.

"Then give them to me and all will be over," Morris assured. He wasn't that interested in the calculations though – he could've made a play at them earlier, could've pushed harder. No, people were this man's specialty.

"I think we need a new deal," Lucas pointed out, placing something on the desk. It was a device of some sort, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Morris didn't seem that interested in it.

"They're paying you enough to be a king." Money was meaningless to men like them though. They craved for challenges, for chances, for change. The real payment had always been a chance to usurp his father, a way of destroying what he held dear.

"I want sanctuary for every member of the advance team and any relatives of theirs they desire. And Skye of course," Lucas announced, feeling a surge of fire in his veins as Morris seemed to focus on him for real now.

"From an angry son to a humanitarian, that's quite a change Taylor," Morris threw back venomously. He didn't care about the Sixers or about anyone caught in this mess. He'd considered Lucas a worthy opponent, but felt bitter disappointment when he'd realized Lucas was a changed man.

"That's my price," Lucas confirmed. He didn't pay any heed to the way Morris had reacted.

Morris' eyes fell to the device on the desk. "What's that?"

"It's for you," Lucas replied. "You take my deal and that device, get the hell out of this camp and go through the gate. I never want to see you again."

Morris actually snorted at this, finding the suggestion incredibly funny. His grin revealed his teeth, that sadistic smile made a return. It chilled Lucas. He knew the response before he even heard it.

"I take your word and _that toy_ , and get myself gunned down at the portal. That's your plan Taylor?" he asked with disbelief, nearly spitting the words.

"We're not your private army," Lucas hissed back. "We're not expendable."

Morris chuckled viciously. "Of course you're expendable! Why else would've they sent you here first instead of trained soldiers?"

He offered Lucas the bottle and Lucas took it in anger. The alcohol burned his throat when he took a drink hastily. His eyes never left Morris during the action. He couldn't afford to take his eyes off the enemy.

"Well that will change," Lucas declared, wiping his lips clean to the sleeve of his shirt. "We've been loyal servants, we've endured hell. I think we all deserve to stay here with the people we love."

"So you're sending your liaison through the jungle alone with some kind words and a promise?" Morris countered, clearly unable to trust any of them.

"Take the deal Morris," Lucas advised with little emotion. "You wouldn't like us when we're not co-operative."

He glanced at Lucas again, finding no sign of deception on the young man's face. Of course he knew Lucas Taylor wanted to consider himself a great thinker and leader underneath. He was more alike to his father than he wanted to admit. Honor was important, keeping your end of the deal was essential. That's how you built dynasties, on the trust of others.

So he could accept that the device would help with the gate. Too bad it meant he needed to put an end to this charade.

"The thing is Taylor…," Morris begun, something predatory flashing in his eyes, "The jury's been out on you awhile now. My associates at Terra Nova found a copy of the calculations in the memory banks of the Eye. So I don't really need you for anything."

The information sunk in, a surprise that wanted to halt Lucas. Of course his father hadn't erased the files completely even after he'd shot the hard drive to pieces. Of course it had been their intention to secure the calculations when they realized he was slipping away from their reach.

Lucas hesitated for a moment, but it was enough for Morris to act. Seconds later as cold steel stabbed through Lucas' hand on the desk, he felt Morris' hand press against his mouth, muffling the guttural scream of pain that erupted from his lips. The knife had penetrated his hand and dug deep into the wooden desk beneath; he could see this before the pain flooded his senses, forcing his eyes shut.

Morris allowed him to take in the pain, to feel every aspect of it. He watched with gleeful delight.

Lucas opened his eyes again after his consciousness seemed to shift into his hand. Blood pooled all over the table, and more kept bleeding from the wound. He tried to move his hand, but nothing happened. Judging from the position of the knife, there would be nerve damage if he didn't bleed to death before that, Lucas realized in agony.

Morris' fingers moved from Lucas' mouth next and the bastard looked at his handiwork calculatingly.

"It was decided that I should terminate our contract if you proved to be uncontrollable," Morris explained calmly.

He'd placed his gun on the desk when he'd risen on his feet to stab Lucas. Now he took the gun and pointed the barrel at Lucas's forehead. All Lucas could see was the gun, everything around it was a blur. He was glued to his seat, nerves aflame because of this assault, mind slipping because of the pain.

Morris pulled the trigger, but his gun didn't fire. Once again the rules didn't apply, there were too many variables.

Lucas cracked a hysteric smile and cackle, having held it back. Now the relief was immense. Mira had disabled Morris' gun just in case, because Lucas hadn't wanted to go against this madman. He should've known better, should've expected Morris to assault him. He'd assumed Morris would make it clean, so clearly he had underestimated the sadistic streak in this man's personality. He should've known things couldn't go down that smoothly.

It made sense now, Morris realized. He hadn't baited Lucas, _Lucas had baited him_.

Morris moved quickly, oxygen burned in his lungs as he rushed at the exit. He ran through with too much force, hitting something, someone. His elbow smashed against their face, a nasty crunching sound marked the breaking of their nose.

The dark all around them, it blurred the details, but he could make out shapes all around him; they had been lying in wait. He could make out sounds though. Guns were pointed around him, but he continued to move, knowing they would not shoot until they had a clear shot – couldn't risk injuring your friends.

He grabbed someone's hand, pulled the gun to his defense and fired it three times at the nearest figures. Grunts and screams sounded and bodies fell. Morris head butted the person behind him, tearing the gun from their limp hand. The action was a blur. It was hard to make out friend from foe. Morris was glad he no longer needed to consider such things; he could just rip through them one by one.

A pain struck his lower back, a kick that made him swagger. Then he felt the cold cruel feel of barbwire around his neck, a body behind him pushing against him to strangle him. A familiar scent invaded his senses; all he heard was controlled breathing by his ear. Was it Carter perhaps? So when they couldn't gun him down safely, they tried to strangle him, was that it?

Morris moved his fingers between the barbwire, pushing against it to keep him from being strangled. Blood was all over and the barbwire had already grazed his neck badly. Now the barbwire was sinking into his hand. He hit blindly at the person behind him with the gun, the blunt force blinding his opponent for a second. Their grip faltered, Morris pulled the barbwire away and retreated back inside the hut where his opponents couldn't shoot him without risking killing their leader.

Lucas was still sitting there, blood pooling around his hand. He hadn't attempted to remove the knife yet, knew it would help him bleed to death faster. His eyes were full of hostility; panic seemed to have grasped his insides. Morris didn't blame him. He hadn't intended to sit here, had he? He'd actually thought they would get a clean shot and end it quickly.

Morris pointed the gun at Lucas again as another figure pushed through the entrance: Mira. She held a gun, but hesitated, knowing Morris was threatening Lucas. Everything had gone to hell despite their plans. Even while outnumbered, Morris succeeded at holding onto life desperately. He was good at evading them, dealing damage with little things. And no one dared to shoot while he moved, fearing friendly fire.

Mira's eyes showed the truth; how she froze with shock when she saw Lucas by the desk, applying pressure with rags to stop the frantic bleeding (for a moment there she'd feared the worst when Lucas hadn't sounded the signal). Then her eyes returned to Morris, his banged up face, the bruises and cuts on his neck, his bleeding hands. She knew he'd pull the trigger before she did.

"Good plan, Lucas," she called to her ally, looking straight past their enemy.

"Didn't expect him to stab me," Lucas responded, sounding out of breath, barely keeping himself from falling apart. Mira knew his injury; it was of the painful sort, made for an extremely dreadful way to die. Lucas put on a brave front in spite of it.

"Should've sided with me, Mira," Morris commented, arm still extended towards Lucas, his aim unfaltering even when he didn't look at his victim.

"You don't have a future, Morris," she smiled back, kicking him in the knee, darting at him to wrestle the gun from his hands.

He kneed her in the stomach immediately, saw her gun fall on the floor, but she reached for his instead. Morris grabbed her hand, his nails tearing at her skin while she tried to yank the gun from his hand. He was stronger than she was, her strength failed her and the gun began slipping from her reach as Morris pushed it towards Mira's face. But Mira pulled the trigger, trying to empty the clip while it was still possible.

Thunder sounded in the hut, the bullets tore through the roof. But the worst was the bang that tore her hearing; it left a ringing in her ears.

Morris tossed the useless gun away, as if unaffected by the sound that set her ears aflame. Somehow she saw another knife in his hands, realized a moment later he'd grabbed it from her belt.

Mira backed away towards the exit, Morris standing between her and Lucas. She wanted to warn Lucas against what he was doing, but knew he wouldn't listen. Mira saw Morris' lips moving; the ringing covered the words, yet the sardonic look when he realized she didn't hear anything conveyed everything he wanted to say.

Behind them, Lucas pulled the knife from his hand whist trying to hold down the nausea, feeling nothing but numbness from his injury. He gripped the knife, feeling the dizziness that was willing to claim him. Yet he held onto to consciousness, fought to stay calm, stay awake. As Morris swung his knife at Mira, Lucas darted at him, ramming the knife into Morris' back, pushing them all outside the hut and onto the wooden platform outside.

Lucas fell almost immediately, strength fleeted from his limbs, left him bleeding on the wood. But Mira and Morris were struggling still, both going for the knife. Morris was pushing her towards the ledge, the safety rail made of rope. Mira pushed herself against him to prevent him from stabbing her, and twisted the knife on his back. He smashed his forehead against hers, a hammering headache tearing at her eyes. His knees didn't buckle, his grip didn't falter.

Another gunshot thundered in the air. Mira felt Morris convulse against her as the power of the shot hitting him pushed them both further towards the ledge. The rope snapped when it met the knife, the support behind her back faltered and disappeared. She pushed her hand through a loop of the cut rope, holding onto it as the fall wanted to pull her down. Mira's grip left her hanging in the air, but Morris' grip on her remained. He struggled to hold onto her, hold onto life.

Mira was down to the last ounce of her strength, and she couldn't pull herself up. It wasn't her hands holding her up anymore. She'd locked her arm in position, held it still by gripping her wrist with her other hand. The rope was digging into the crook of her arm whilst Morris' weight pulled her down.

Mira glanced down at Morris, noticed how his grip faltered. He was hanging onto her belt now; his hands shook violently while he tried to keep holding. She knew he didn't have much left in him, but that she was close to falling as well. So Mira tensed her muscles, lifted her legs onto his sides, clamping him between them, and yanked once, twice.

She saw Morris' face look up at her, defiant even in the face of death. Mira kicked him to the side of his head with her knee, a last ditch effort to drop him before her strength ran out. Her knee connected with his head, his expression cleared. He fell then, and the darkness swallowed him in an instant. Just like that she was left there alone, hanging in the rain.

Her ears were ringing, the rain sought to drench her, and all she could think of was how tired she was. She just wanted to hold her child finally, to know this had all been worth it. Amidst her exhaustion she wondered whether it'd be easier to just let go.

Hands reached for her, eager to relieve her from the burden of choice. Her vision was beginning to blur when they got a good grip of her arms and began hauling her back up on the platform. She felt weightless for a few passing seconds as her comrades lifted her from the mouth of the abyss, and returned her to platform.

All sound was distorted, questions missed. Her muscles burned from the exertion, she had trouble just breathing. She pulled the front of her shirt loose a bit, rubbed her ribcage and grunted at the pain this action brought forth. Her ribs felt bruised, which was no wonder after she'd wrestled with Morris.

Mira's eyes found Lucas passed out further away; others leaned over him, bandaging his injury, trying to wake him. There were others with injuries, some gunshot wounds but she didn't see any dead.

"Mira, Mira!" Carter tried to get a response as he studied her face and hands for damage. She didn't seem to hear anything though, just stared away lost in her own world.

Carter's face supported a sore bruise, but he was otherwise alright. He'd pulled through and acted quickly when Morris had emerged from the hut, wrestling Mira and Lucas. Carter had shot him in the back, hoping it would disable him enough to allow Mira to escape. Of course even after he'd been shot and stabbed, he'd still tried to take Mira with him, nearly stopping Carter's heart as he'd watched them fall off the ledge helplessly.

Carter noticed blood dripping down from Mira's hairline and he moved, finally appearing in Mira's line of sight. Mira recognized him, relief washed through her. Carter sat down on the platform in front of her and took a small towel that was handed out to him. He pressed it against her forehead to stop the bleeding.

"Don't scare me like that," he told her.

Mira merely pointed at her ears, shaking her head. She couldn't hear a word he was saying, and she didn't even try to read his lips. But for a moment there Carter was tempted to say the things he'd been holding back aloud, just to get them off his chest. He decided against it though, pushing it back yet again. He was content with the knowledge that she'd survived.

Skye appeared over them, drenched in blood once more. "Couldn't save Grier," she said darkly. "Cross and Villiers both got shot as well." Considering the situation, Morris had shot with frightening accuracy.

Carter nodded at her. "Mira's alive," he then concluded, like it was all that mattered.

"Lucas?" Mira asked with a foreign voice. It was odd to hear, didn't fit with her person.

"You need to let me take him to Terra Nova," Skye pleaded, glancing at the Sixers who were with him now. "If we just cauterize the wound by ourselves, he could lose a lot of nerve function in that hand. He might never be able to use it again."

Carter contemplated. Their plan had taken more casualties than expected. Lucas had been adamant that they continue with plan B no matter what if Morris turned him down though. According to Lucas it was the only way to survive.

"No," he said, facing Skye's pained eyes. "We carry on as intended. They have the tech to fix Lucas' hand. We'll need to stay there longer, but it's alright."

Carter's gaze met with Mira's again, an understanding bloomed between them.

"We need to get to the portal and end this," he then concluded, taking on leadership.

TBC


	23. The Oath

Sleep wanted to claim him as he pressed his head against the wall, sinking further into the chair in the lounge. Carter fought his fatigue though; he knew better than to allow his senses to be fooled the silence, calmness and brightness around him. He needed to stay awake for now, couldn't falter until he'd made sure Lucas was alright. He'd demanded for a room where he could see what was happening at all times, but truthfully his mind or his eyes hadn't been on Lucas' surgery for awhile now.

He placed his hand inside his pocket, picking a crumbled piece of paper inside. Carter unfolded it carefully, reading through the short list of names, as Skye's voice haunted his mind:

_There are so few names, Carter. I can't believe there aren't more._

Each name had a social security number attached to it, something to properly identify these people. His eyes were sensitive for one in particular though: Number eleven. Carter nearly said it aloud, but he had to hold his tongue here, so his lips moved without sound instead. He imagined _her_ speaking that name to him with her hoarse voice, as she held onto him, begging him to do this for _her_.

She should've known he would do anything for her by now.

No one had expected things to go so wrong with Morris: Two dead, countless others injured. Mira had suffered some sort of acoustic shock after the gun had fired by her ears – the ringing hadn't subsided yet. But seeing the bastard dead on the ground, lying in a pool of blood had been satisfying after days of suffering through his antics, even if it had been achieved at a high price. Carter had been the one to close his lifeless eyes after making sure he was truly dead. No one had asked for a proper burial for this man, so they had left him in the jungle to be mauled by the carnivores.

Skye had been nearly hysterical after Carter had denied her suggestion to get Lucas treatment from Terra Nova. Carter had had one of the men hold her down while he and Mira had proceeded to cauterize Lucas' hand, burning the wound shut so he wouldn't lose anymore blood. She cried and screamed at him, begged him to cancel the plan, to consider Lucas' condition, or at least bring her with them. But leaving Skye behind had been one of Lucas' conditions for the trip, so Carter had known he couldn't afford to be persuaded by her.

Surprisingly, Mira had held her down, telling her that she needed Skye at camp with her ( _someone to be her voice and ears, someone she could trust_ ). Carter hadn't expected Mira to give up without a fight – he'd been prepared to wrestle her down to have her stay behind – but even she had understood she was no use to them in her current condition. She'd pulled him aside for a moment, wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her jaw over his shoulder and told him about her doubts; how she had almost taken Morris' offer, because she would do anything for her child.

_It's dangerous, Carter. That kind of blind love is dangerous. I can't risk it by going myself, in this condition, with this broken body. So I need you to find her, and bring her home. Please?_

He'd gathered the volunteers, giving everyone an option to choose their own future. Not so surprisingly, there wasn't a soul who stood against the plan, not after Morris. Skye had gathered the list, gone from person to person, but most had nothing to contribute. After three years they hardly had any connection to their old lives. Some had more now than ever. Carter wrote down only one name on that list: number eleven, Sienna Cain.

And despite the fact that he had seen her countless times, as their employer had allowed Mira to sneak a peek of her daughter after their holographic meetings, Mira had pressed the only photo she had of her girl into his hand. It was faded, worn out by the extreme weather conditions, but he could still make out the woman and child smiling in it. He'd told her, no, _he had promised_ , he would find her, but he doubted she'd heard a word he'd said. Carter had seen the tears in her eyes though, even after she'd been quick to wipe them away.

Ten volunteers with him and Lucas included had set off towards the portal. Mira and Skye had shot Lucas full of drugs and painkillers to numb his nerve system that was screaming for the damaged nerves in his hand. Again Skye had been begging Carter to reconsider, but even amidst his pain Lucas had told her to trust him. And they had fought, as her heart had screamed at her to stop him, and his sense and guilt had driven him into this plan in the first place. In the end, Skye had relented and seen them off before returning to the camp and accepting her part in this play.

It had been the first light of dawn when they had ambushed the guards at the portal and seized it momentarily. Lucas had grit his teeth and worked as fast as he could to open the gateway. After that all they had had was hope. Hope that the others had reached their employer in this to announce their arrival, hope that Lucas' calculations were sound, hope that they could return back in one piece, and hope that the trip would not prove to be in vain.

Carter had helped Lucas walk (Lucas' arm slumped over his shoulders, his body keeping Lucas straight) as they had ventured into the open portal together. And on the other end, they had been greeted by a welcoming party. Carter had surrendered Lucas into their care, dug the empty medicine bottles from his pockets for the doctors, and begun the negotiations while they had taken Lucas into the hospital. Some of the others were claimed by disorientation, nausea, dehydration. Some had merely feigned these symptoms to gain a measure of peace and quiet. Carter had told them upfront he wouldn't be saying anything until Lucas had recovered.

A man had asked him about Morris and Mira. Carter had told them Morris was dead, ambushed by Taylor's men, and that Mira was taking care of the camp until their return. His explanations had sufficed – for now – as the feat of returning to 2149 had been enough to satisfy their employer for now.

Carter had sat in this room for hours now, his weary mind replaying the events of the previous night. The closer he came to sleep, the more inclined his mind was to think of Mira, of his promise to her. Here they were Miranda and James: two outcasts, nobodies. Back in Paradise they were just Mira and Carter, and where she went, he followed. Maybe if – no, _when_ – things settled down, she'd let him talk and be the one to listen finally.

Something startled Carter from his thoughts and he fixed his position again, swallowing painfully and glaring at the operation room behind the glass wall. They were still at work, the countless figures clad in hospital maroon leaning over Lucas' unconscious figure. Carter had had to drag him here, nearly carry the man after the pain medication had started to wear down. He wasn't as worried now as he'd been. The Company wouldn't bother fixing Lucas if they believed he was useless, so there was hope for them still.

And yet his head pounded, the prolonged waking state wanted to take its toll and leave him weak in its wake. Carter banged his head against the wall softly, allowing the small pain and discomfort to disrupt him from the coziness of the chair and the stale air. He focused on Lucas and Skye holding one another, whispering gentle words, even as Lucas' eyes had been unfocused and his whole being had appeared almost too relaxed in her hold. He focused on Lucas shouting orders at the others to check and see that each soldier they'd knocked out was still in good health at the portal, making sure he didn't leave a trail of bodies for his father to find.

Hours were wasted between dream and reality as Carter waited for Lucas.

* * *

The ringing had not subsided. It nearly drove her to tears as it covered everything beneath its hum, like the gentle sea and its waves. Not that Mira had actually seen an ocean in her life. She'd seen films, heard the falling water here in Terra Nova and sat by the waterfalls with awe on her lips, but she had never been by an ocean. The noise muddled her senses, isolated her from her surroundings, although her thoughts remained clear.

It had been the right thing to send Carter through with Lucas.

Mira glanced at Skye who was moving from one person to another, trying her best to fix everyone. She'd thrown herself into work, refusing to think of Lucas. By the look on her face, it wasn't working that well.

Mira was stuck in this bed because of that girl; she'd actually had the guts to issue her a guard that made sure she didn't get up! And why? Because of some bruised ribs and the tinnitus that didn't go away. Truthfully speaking though, Mira did admit she was beat up. Every muscle hurt when she tried to move and every attempt to focus on reading lips seemed to take more from her than she would've liked. So she lay on the bed, resting and thinking.

Carter had promised to let them know once Lucas was alright. It could take them awhile to recover though, so until then they were on stand-by. It was useless to do anything until the other team was ready. They were weak now, and their enemy was gathering their strength, alarmed by this sudden move. Mira didn't suspect one bit that Taylor wasn't happy about their assault on the gate. If the man had any common sense he would be preparing for invasion now, securing the portal the best he could. And that was a bottleneck position that meant certain death for anyone who wanted to come back – unless you had an army.

Skye had assured she would try her best to negotiate a cease-fire, but Mira suspected Taylor wasn't as willing to believe her as before. He'd seen the girl he'd adopted turn into a traitor, a Sixer and a killer. No one knew if he had any good intents left for Skye. Mira wanted to believe so, but couldn't vouch for it.

People were petty in her experience. Too many betrayals had the potential of hardening a man until he trusted no one. Mira knew this quite well. She still had trouble trusting others, and yet Skye Tate had succeeded in gaining her trust against all odds. Mira had resisted, and every time she'd expected the girl to flee or freeze in fear she'd charged in headstrong, involved herself in their business more adamantly.

Mira sat up upon realizing one of their scouts was approaching her, and Skye caught this visitor as well, making her way to them both and leaving the others to help the wounded. The scout, Kiya, had been stationed at the portal to evaluate Terra Nova's response to the attack. Lucas had insisted that they keep the casualties to a minimum, and try and reason with his father, but Mira hadn't expected it to make a difference in the end. Taylor had shot Pillbrooke in cold blood when push had come to shove, had he not?

Kiya gave them both a nod of acknowledgement and claimed eye contact with Mira. She then began to speak slowly, making sure Mira could follow. "They've set up guard at the portal, fortified it heavily."

Skye could imagine Taylor's distress at the attack that had come out of nowhere. He had to be planning something with the others, sticking to the belief that the Sixers were out to occupy Terra Nova now that the portal was working both ways. And while he couldn't guard the portal day and night forever, he was sure to place a heavy resistance at the portal, lying in wait for the returning troops.

Would he give orders to shoot on sight? Would they even have a chance to lay down their arms?

"Taylor had set the whole colony on wide alert. No one's going OTG unless it's the troops bound for the portal," Kiya explained with worry.

Mira looked at Skye now, absorbed her clear worry. The noise had begun to take shape. It was like a torrent of water by her ears, foaming and raging. "We'll negotiate," she settled to announce.

Skye bit her lip nervously. "He has no reason to trust any of us," she admitted with great pain. And then her gaze fell to the floor as she smiled absent-mindedly, "But we'll try. Lucas is counting on us."

Because the truth was, they were coming back on their own and locking the door to the future for good behind them. They were finding the people missed: the people whose futures the Company had guaranteed them. Lucas had set to fix everything like he'd promised, even as he had no guarantee that his father, who'd they all had known would control the portal on this end, would even let him back alive.

"So far all they're doing is watching the portal, making sure no one slips back unnoticed. There've been no definitive orders on what they're supposed to do if someone opens the portal," Kiya offered a small piece of solace, a nugget of hope.

Skye proceeded to ask her more, needing any details she could have, but their conversation faded beneath the crashing waters, the foaming of their movement. Mira sunk back into her bed. Her mind was full of rivers, treacherous currents and the cold black water. Skye had comforted her that usually the ringing was temporary, that it would fade away eventually. Mira wasn't so sure.

She didn't hear herself whisper a prayer for clemency.

* * *

Lucas began to wake slowly. His head was heavy, but otherwise his body felt light and pleasant. Nothing but white greeted him once his eyes were open. He was used to noise and color, so the realization that there was nothing but calm white was a violent one. His body jerked, he felt the pull of tubes that connected him to the machines by his bedside and it only made him struggle more.

His voice was reduced to muffled groan, a desperate attempt to break the unnerving quiet. He succeeded, as hands landed on his, and suddenly he was face to face with another man. Carter, he realized slowly, as he examined the man's face. He was shaved, clean and dressed in unfamiliar attire, but it was him. Lucas felt ease return into his body with Carter's slow hush that aimed to calm him down.

"Carter?" Lucas coughed, and cleared his throat. He tried to move his hand to his face, but it didn't budge, leading him to glance at the bandaged limb by his side. He frowned in bewilderment. His face showed off each doubt better than words could've described them.

"They wanted to amputate, replace it with a robotic hand," Carter explained. "I didn't let them," he then added, a hint of rebellious smile on his face. It eased Lucas' tensed body more than he'd expected.

Lucas blinked uncomfortably, attempted to move his hand again, but the medication haze was too strong. "What did they say?" he asked.

"There will be lingering pain. Some nerves damaged beyond repair. You won't do surgery with that hand. The knife busted your precision mechanics, but for the most part it should work," Carter recited the effects like he was reading a shopping list. The dark rings beneath his eyes betrayed his tiredness. Lucas was surprised he'd been here right away to confront him.

"How long was I out?" Lucas then asked, wondering if… if he could've missed everything, slept his way through the onslaught.

"A few days. You've been in and out of consciousness. They said the blood loss was quite severe, but they have been surprisingly patient with you," Carter assured, insinuating that the revolution through the portal had not yet taken place. The Company was waiting; they needed him to be there as promised.

"They have been busy though," Carter then added, as if to remind Lucas who it was they were dealing with.

"They have hired some kind of a private army, questioned everyone about Morris. Apparently the timing is ill. We don't have the tactical advantage since Taylor is waiting for us."

Lucas swallowed again, choosing his words carefully. "Has everyone gotten rest, a decent meal?" he asked, sounding perfectly innocent. The way Carter leered back at him told him they had been busy with preparations even while he'd slept. Good, the quicker they got everything in order, the quicker they could make a run for it.

Lucas struggled to get himself to a sitting position. He noticed Carter's jacket laying the chair by the bed, and draw his conclusions from it. "You've been here the whole time?" Lucas asked.

Carter didn't answer, just shifted his eyes a bit.

"Don't you have something more important to do?" Lucas questioned, remembering all too well what should've been the man's first priority. His question made Carter uneasy, guilt rested on his features. Somehow Lucas didn't find the energy to get mad, or ask about it again. There was time to find the girl, to whisk her to safety like the rest.

"I promised Skye I'd look after you," Carter noted.

Lucas remembered dreaming of her. She'd held him, wrapped him in blankets and struggled to stop the bleeding. She'd refused to let him come here, kept begging for him to succumb and be treated in Terra Nova. And he'd tried to assure her as the dizziness, the cold and the nausea had tried to take him for good.

"Of course you did," Lucas sighed.

Lucas's eyes found the window. It was covered. "Open that would you?" he asked, motioning at it with his head.

Carted heeded to his request, and the view that opened froze them both. The ugly brick walls that separated the good parts of town from the bad ones, the dying shades of brown and red all over without a trace of green, of life, opened beneath. The sky was tainted by the dome and its unyielding structure.

For a moment Carter remembered why he'd come on the expedition. To save a dying world that needed those resources. Well this was a bad time for heroes, and the intentions of the Company hadn't been so noble after all, now had they?

For a moment Lucas remembered how he had hated to be torn from this simple, predictable world. And how the lush forests, the cruel wilds and the flow of water – just harmless, precious water – had taken those prejudices and destroyed them.

This wasn't home for either, not anymore.

Lucas glanced at Carter. "Get some sleep," he advised, whilst his eyes on the downright depressing scenery. "And then _go find her_."

Carter didn't argue. He had a long list, and number eleven was someone he'd wanted to meet for some time now.

TBC


	24. Devils in pale moonlight

The sun set in the distance, coloring the horizon with a shade of burning rust. It was nothing like the sunsets in their time, _back home_. Lucas still couldn't fathom how the change in him had occurred; how the place of his imprisonment had become his only home; how the Sixers had begun to resemble an extended family rather than a nuisance. But it was true. He no longer willed to do anything that harmed their fragile peace.

Of course one couldn't be rid of years of hatred and blame (cursed truths etched into his spine as infallible) yet he'd taken a step to move beyond them. He still willed to see his father hurt, to teach him about his own façade and lies, to show him he wasn't the great man he wanted everyone to see him as. There were other ways to achieve this though, he needn't harm Terra Nova in the process, or overwhelm the people he'd come to call his friends with his vengeance.

Realizing this made his heart feel lighter, his step easier. It was what made Lucas bare the dying skies and dull days here, this hope that everything wasn't lost yet.

His recovery had been longer than he'd intended, but the doctors had insisted he remain bedridden while he recovered from the blood loss and the surgery. Truthfully, most of the time he was too out of it to resist; his mind dulled by the pain medication. It was made bearable by the fact that no matter how out there he was, he could always spot one familiar face by his bed, whether it was Carter or one of the others. Lucas also recognized the fact that he needed to heal before he would of any real use to the others.

Of course he'd been downplaying his recovery a bit, appearing less capable than he really was. Lucas knew the leaving could happen at any time, and he didn't wish to provide the Company any reason to think he might leave while unguarded. So after five days of resting, he was beginning to grow anxious.

Carter swung by whenever he could, whispered progress reports and told him about what was going on with the Company. The volunteers who'd come to 2149 with him had been gathering Intel, making preparations, buying supplies, and finding the people on Carter's list – the family and loved ones of those stuck in the past. The sake of appearances, Carter had been discussing with the Company on Lucas' behalf about what went on in Terra Nova, but he'd insisted they discuss the arrangement and the calculations with Lucas once he had recovered.

Apparently there was only so much he could do to keep Sebastian at bay, Lucas thought, as he saw their intermediate appear into view by his door. Sebastian Cross was looking the same as ever: sand-color kempt hair, a trustworthy face, a company man's suit tailored to his measurements, and that deceiving smile upon his lips. He made a knock on the door, appearing fully into view with smugness in his behavior that annoyed Lucas.

"How's the patient?" Sebastian asked, walking up to Lucas even as Lucas' watch – a Sixer by the name of Perkins – rose to question his arrival with a disapproving glare. Lucas nodded back at his bodyguard, signaling him to sit back down with his hand, as he turned to Sebastian with false glee.

"Doing better, thanks to you," he then noted politely.

Sebastian's eyes found Lucas' hand now, saw the scar. A grimace spread to his face in response.

"You could've gotten a perfectly working replacement. Geez, Taylor, why do you want to hold onto outdated hardware?" he frowned, showing off his own hand, which looked perfectly normal, but was in fact a robotic replacement.

Lucas turned his eyes from the man for a second, holding back his irritation, whilst Sebastian rolled up his sleeve and demonstrated how the replacement limb worked. Lucas' hand was itching beneath the bandages, new skin yearned to replace the scar, and beneath this his nerves were struggling to fix the damage.

"Not interested," he settled to remark, looking a tad darker now. It made Sebastian get more serious as well.

"Well, since you'll be on your feet in no time, I think it's time to discuss the details of your return to Terra Nova," he said, sounding quite pleased with the prospects in sight.

Lucas swallowed, but his face remained stoic, untouched. He didn't partake in Sebastian's enthusiasm for the fulfillment of their deal. He didn't think the Company would be any more inclined to keep the Sixers from harm's way than Morris had been, so further deals were off the table. In reality, all that remained was thinking of ways to delay the attack, and sneak back to the past before they realized what they were up to.

"My father has no doubt secured the portal and will expecting an attack force," Lucas surmised carefully. "Is it possible to use the other fracture?"

Sebastian quirked a brow at this comment. "Morris didn't say anything?" he asked with surprise. "The other fracture's location hasn't been found in our end yet. Might take a long while before we can utilize it fully."

"Shame," Lucas frowned in response, secretly relishing the news. That meant he wouldn't need to watch the Hydra spawn another head if he hacked one off.

"We're so close now Taylor, I can feel it," Sebastian proclaimed, genuinely enthusiastic. "The work of five years is coming to an end. You'll finally best your father, and we'll finally have Terra Nova."

It was strange, how Lucas couldn't feel a thing about those words, or the promise they withheld. In the past, thinking like this had been the only thing to keep him alive. Those cold nights by his own campfire, always sleeping with one eye open in fear of the carnivores, he'd often clung onto the future prospects and aims promised by his employer. He'd cursed himself for being weak and not pulling the trigger when he'd had the chance. Now, he knew he wouldn't have met Skye, or grown to appreciate the Sixers if he'd done that. Towards the end of his lonely sojourn, he'd thought about Skye more than besting his father.

Somewhere in the long line of Lucas' priorities, this once important goal seemed quite unimportant now.

Lucas feigned a pleased smile in response and looked at their intermediate with dark eyes, a violent gleam visible in them. "It's about time," Lucas commented.

He was tired and groggy, yet he pushed his energy into playing a former version of himself, the young man who'd ventured into the jungle and never come back. It was instrumental to their plans that no one else developed suspicions of their intent – they couldn't afford another Morris.

"I'll have units for you, and a contact of ours, Eddison Weaver, a good man if you ask me. We'll outgun Taylor's forces at the portal and pierce through by sheer force. Taylor knows he can't afford to leave the portal unwatched, so the bulk of his forces will be there," Sebastian begun explaining, as if he was truly a military expert. Lucas supposed he had a few memory cards in his pocket to help him with the key points and strategies of this assault.

Lucas listened only half-heartedly, finding that his interests truly lied elsewhere. He tried to imagine a future, being embraced by warm light and Skye's arms, walking together out in the open, but somehow all he could see was the onslaught of the army by the portal that the attack would undoubtedly cause. It bothered him more than he would've liked to admit.

"…And then you can do whatever you want with your father. We'll keep the civilians if they prove to be useful and cooperative, but you and the rest of the advance team can come back here as soon as we're finished," Sebastian assured, clearly thinking they needed to return here. How foolish of him to think that this depressing time could match the fresh air and sunlight of the past…

"Sounds good," Lucas said. "I'm sure everyone is eager to get back into their lives," he then added, observing Sebastian for a reaction. There was none. He was buying Lucas' bland comments believable, or at least it appeared that way.

And yet, it felt wrong, it felt too soft. Lucas gripped the edge of his blanket with his good hand, a mean look appearing on his face. "No scratch that," he then said viciously, "It sounds _excellent_. I've been dying to get out of that jungle for years now."

Sebastian didn't respond, yet you track his thoughts from his face. _Now there's the Lucas Taylor I know_ , it seemed to say.

He placed his hands neatly in the pockets of his suit. "We've hired the Phoenix Group. Finest military force your money can buy. So trust me, it'll all be over soon." Sebastian actually had the nerve to wink at Lucas, a gesture that was probably deemed charming in some circles, but just felt arrogant in this room.

"Good," Lucas replied, moving his hand. "My father will pay for this." He looked straight at his bandaged hand as he said the words, relaying utter contempt with his voice and eyes.

The contempt was true, of course, whereas the target was different in reality. Morris had been an agent of the Company, these men in grey suits who thought they could buy the world. For a moment they had bought Lucas, bought his assistance and resentment, helped give it form. He no longer needed them.

Sebastian chuckled, happy to see Lucas up to his more usual tricks. Lucas had been unusually quiet these past days, but perhaps it had just been the injury and medication keeping his temper in check. Now, watching Lucas' anger gain physical form, as the chords on his neck tensed alongside with his body, Sebastian knew his doubts had been unfounded. They had chosen Lucas precisely because of his bleak outlook, driven determination and obsession with his own twisted ideals. Isolation had changed nothing.

"I'll see you in a few days' time, Lucas. Planning a conquest takes so much time," he quipped with a smile and waved at Lucas on his way out of the room.

Lucas was left motionless in his bed, Perkins glancing at him with a mute inquiry. Lucas turned to him after awhile as he realized he needed to address the situation. Perkins was a man in his thirties, toughened by their ordeal. He had icy blue eyes and a dark complexion. He was an intimidating sight to behold in his height.

"Tell Carter it's time to make haste," Lucas advised softly, all visible signs of anger or frustration gone from his person. He was in fact serene, completely balanced.

Perkins nodded at him, inhaling the thick hospital air with distaste. It was worse outside though; there the air was practically too thin for humans without a breather.

"Last I heard, he was down to only a few things on his list," Perkins commented. His voice was deep and trustworthy, almost contemplative. It didn't with the image of a tall, strong brute.

Lucas had to wonder what Carter had saved for last only a short moment. He knew the answer by the time Perkins walked outside and another Sixer walked in to take his place, a woman, Laura. Lucas laid back into his pillow, confident he could walk out of here at any given moment once they had their plan in order.

* * *

Carter had been postponing this for days now, fearing, suspecting. His mind would not let him do this without doubt. Of course he should've known better, he was a grown man, wasn't he? And still those little jinks came along the way every time he was supposed to do this. Johnson's younger brother was dead from lung failure, Maryanne's father was rotting in jail where they had no chance of retrieving him if they wished to remain discreet, and apparently Jillian's husband had given up hope of her return and moved away, remarried.

What if there was something up with her too? What if he couldn't find her, or reach her? What if Sienna would not believe him? Even after Carter had found her, and he had no basis for his suspicions, his mind found new arguments for postponement.

Such pondering should've been useless – she was a child for crying out loud – but he'd seen her vicious glare, her untrusting eyes. Mira still saw her every time she had a chance, they conversed through holograms, but the distance was difficult for such a young child. Each year her face had changed, her reaction to her mother had become less and less joyous. The last time they had conversed, she hadn't even recognized her mother at first.

Carter had been present many times when they had discussed, listened from the corner of the room. And that one time Mira had been sick, bedbound, he'd taken her place and explained to the child why her mother couldn't be there to see her. Those angry eyes had swelled with tears at first, a manipulation only a seven-year-old could pull so masterfully, but then she'd become curious of Carter himself. For awhile, they had conversed.

He tried to convince himself that he'd saved her for last, because she was only one on the list was practically held in the Company's territory. They had hired a sitter for her, made sure she gained proper schooling, and fixed her ailing lungs when she'd first come into their care. The time Mira and Sienna had lived on the streets had been near fatal to the child, and had driven Mira into trusting the Company. She hadn't asked for pay, or miracles, just that they secure a future for her child, whether she was in it herself or not.

Carter rose nervously as the sitter approached her with a kind expression.

"You're James Carter, I presume?" she asked and motioned him to follow in her steps.

He had been able to secure a visitation permit when he'd explained Mira had wanted him to check on her daughter. He'd made sure not to appear too eager, as any other man in his position would've behaved.

"It's almost bedtime for Sienna, but you can have a few minutes with her. I told her you were coming, and she seems to remember you, so I'll have myself a small break while you two chat," she continued with her perky tone. The sitter was a petite blond with a charming smile and a pleasing demeanor. He could see why kids would like her.

"I would appreciate it," Carter replied with some reserve.

Initially he hadn't thought that this was such big a deal, yet the concerns crept up on him again, warning him against the slightest mistake. He was only here to survey, to see how they could bring her with them just as they were leaving. Taking her early would warn the Company about their plans and prove harmful altogether, so Carter needed to plan this closely. Sienna was one of the most important pieces of leverage the Company had on them.

They stopped at a door, and the sitter knocked on it quietly before opening the door. Carter didn't step into view just yet, he allowed the sitter to address her first.

"Sienna honey," she called, "You have a visitor."

The sitter motioned him to come closer for the girl to see, and Carter obliged carefully. He had a fresh set of clothes, nothing as tribal and menacing as he'd worn daily when she'd last seen him. Even his face was freshly shaven and his hair clean. Yet something sparked on the young child's face, a lingering trace of recognition that was clear to Carter (he knew someone else who shared these subtle expressions) yet too discreet for the sitter.

"Sienna, this is James, remember? He's a friend of your mother's?" the sitter called and watched as the child nodded slowly in understanding, while keeping her eyes firmly in Carter's figure. The sitter made room for him to enter, and he did so without haste, keeping his eyes on the child by the bed.

She was holding a Plex on her lap, but seemed uninterested in it. Her complexion was dark like her mother's, her eyes aware. She had black, curly hair that fell to her shoulders as a messy cloud that the sitter had undoubtedly tried to tame with a brush many times. Everything about her spoke of defiance, the need to do things your own way. He recalled Mira had said this was _that age_ many times before. He watched as Sienna raised her chin slightly the closer he got, almost like she was telling him in her own way that she wasn't someone he could fool.

Carter eventually sat down on a chair near her, settling at a small distance. "I remember you," he said casually, talking back to her like a partner in crime, like they shared a secret.

And just like that, she smiled at him too. "I remember you too."

The sitter walked out at this point, believing the two were off to a good start. Her superiors had told her to give them awhile, to exchange some pleasantries since the mother hadn't been able to arrive, and she didn't see anything wrong with that.

"You're her friend," Sienna explained, pushing the Plex from her lap. "You take care of my mom."

She tilted her head a bit as she spoke, leaning towards him, all of her attention at his disposal. Carter didn't know how to respond; all he saw were the striking similarities. For a second he wondered how Mira was doing, if she'd recovered the tinnitus yet.

"That's true, Sienna," he told her with a friendly smile. "Your mom is doing great, but she misses you. A day doesn't go by that she doesn't talk about you."

"Where is she?" Sienna asked with a trace of agony in her voice.

Carter paused almost painfully, struck by the little girl's anguish. "She couldn't come," he said, leaning in. "But you want to know a secret?" he then asked, signaling her to come closer. And she leaned in curiously.

"I'm going to take you with me. You'll see your mom," he promised, watched as her gaze lit up and everything about her changed in an instant.

She was about to speak, but Carter hushed her quiet.

"But you can't tell anyone. Not your sitter, not your friends, not anyone," he warned her, realizing fully how stupid it was to expect a child to keep a secret.

Sienna assured her the otherwise though, nodding with understanding.

"You swear?" he asked, and watched as she extended her hand and fisted all her fingers except for the pinky finger. Amused by the child's ways, Carter extended his pinky as well and they entwined the two fingers together in a pinky promise.

"I swear," she said, sounding grave and serious. Her eyes didn't leave him for the duration of the moment, and he was the first to flinch and pull away.

"Good," Carter complimented her, finding a strange solitude in her words.

There was something tough in this child, a remnant of her time spent on the streets perhaps. Mira had told him Sienna had never been the kind to cry unless she really needed to. Of course, upon being introduced to higher class of citizenship, she'd learned all the tricks from other children, but a certain kind of unrelenting trait in her character remained.

Carter glanced at the door, thinking of making his exit already, when he felt her hand on his forearm, tugging. He turned his eyes back on her; saw the demand for attention there.

"Tell me," she pleaded. He frowned at first, not realizing what she was asking. "Tell me about the dinosaurs!" she then pleaded again, and he came to realize Sienna knew all about where her mother was.

"Your mom doesn't fear them, even when they travel in packs," Carter started, painting picture in his story from his memory. "They're fierce and hungry, but easily scared off when you know a few tricks."

* * *

"He doesn't want to see you," Lieutenant Washington explained sternly, holding onto her weapon even as it was lowered. Several others were standing behind her, all grasping guns uneasily in the presence of the Sixers. She felt more than secure, but the whole situation left her with disdain.

"I need to talk to him," Skye claimed, placing her hand over her heart, frowning a bit as she tried to move forward, but was interrupted by the sight of several guns being pointed at her.

Her distress was visible, haunting even. This wasn't the same girl, who'd left Terra Nova disgraced. No, this was a young woman with a mission, a calling. Washington noticed how the Sixers treated her with respect – it hadn't been so before, even when they'd come for her.

"Skye, please," Washington pleaded with a tired voice. "Lucas made his choice when he opened the portal."

Skye looked around them. Here she was again, caught between two troops with guns, trying to reason without avail. Washington had been on patrol when she'd appeared into view with a few others. Her intrusion was unexpected and unwelcome, but she needed to act while she still could. Lucas was coming back any day now – she refused to believe anything else – and he needed to come back safe. So once again Skye inched forward, searching for an eye contact with Washington.

"They didn't go back to start a war. They went back to end it," she tried to explain.

Washington continued to eye Skye suspiciously. The younger woman was clad in cargo pants, a tank top, a wooden necklace and there were several other characteristics to her appearance that revealed her alliance loud and clear. The dirt aged Skye considerably, gave her much needed credit. She had a splint in her hand, supporting one of her fingers, packing the whole hand into tight bundle, and yet Skye didn't look bothered or pained. She'd gained a tan from apparently spending more time outdoors. Her good hand appeared calloused.

"Funny way to ask for peace," Washington shot back, refusing to give any room for suspicion. Lucas hated his father and wanted to destroy the colony. It was their duty to keep watch until he returned with his back-up, and finally make a stand against the Sixers.

Irritation wanted to sneak up on Skye, force her to relinquish false hope. She fought these feelings, knew she was good with words.

"They are ending the Sixer affiliation with the future. We don't want anything to do with them anymore," Skye countered decisively.

"Lucas is really good at manipulation, _trust me_ , I've been there," Washington answered, startling Skye a bit. Really? Was that how Washington saw Lucas? As some kind of an abuser?

"I know I'm not the best person to ask for trust, but we have a chance to put things right here, Washington. I'm not asking to throw down your weapons. I'm just asking to speak to Taylor," Skye insisted, the tone of her voice softening. Small admissions would pave the way to peace. All she needed was a chance to commune, a chance for them to hold their guns and see that Lucas came back without an ulterior motive.

Washington's skin felt uncomfortable in this dampness. It'd been raining more every morning. The rainy season approached slowly but surely. The days spent stalking the portal, waiting for the Sixers to make their return, had been utterly uncomfortable. And when she finally had a chance to return to the colony, she'd run into Skye.

"I'm sorry, Skye," Washington said, signaling her men to retreat, reaching for her radio.

"Then take me as your prisoner!" Skye exclaimed, surprising even the Sixers by her side with her announcement. Washington looked back at her with shock, puzzlement. Skye moved forward boldly, but the guns stayed in place, allowing her to approach.

She moved her hands in front of her, offered them to be cuffed despite her injury. Washington still didn't move or acknowledge the offer. She was thinking this through and finding no logical explanation.

"The Commander will interrogate his prisoner, won't he?" Skye asked, appearing headstrong, when she'd been visibly shaken the last time she'd been in this position.

Washington blinked, finally taking the steps to close the distance between them. She glanced at Skye, at the Sixers, and then at her men. No one seemed to have any answers for her.

"Are you sure?" she asked the young woman in front of her, knowing she would let her go if Skye changed her mind. She'd never doubted Skye's intentions, only Lucas. Skye obviously believed she was working for the best of both sides.

"Yes," Skye responded.

There was a pregnant pause in the air and then Washington turned around. "Take the prisoner with us. No cuffs," she advised, taking Skye's injury and willingness to come into account.

Skye looked back at the Sixers behind her, but no one made any attempts to stop her. They knew her resolve, the urgency of her intentions. They would report back to Mira, she would find another way if this failed, but for now, Skye was their best bet.

"Thank you," Skye whispered, before two soldiers walked to her sides and began to guide her towards a rover a bit further back. She followed, feeling certain that this was the right thing to do.

TBC


	25. No Light

Another morning broke, failing to bring any hope with its first light. Skye shifted beneath her blanket, dreaming of Lucas, that haunting encounter by the Falls. Those memories never truly left her, never truly became tainted by their later actions. How would things be if she hadn't approached him so fearlessly, if she hadn't given into the temptation of his presence? Skye couldn't imagine such a world in a dream, nor awake.

Lucas had changed because of that encounter, and without it to influence him he would've taken a different road, she was certain. Without being forced to see things through her eyes, he would've extracted his revenge by now, sated his hunger for his father's pain. Skye doubted Lucas would've turned against his employers willingly, had she not been there to be threatened.

And still she was weak. She suffered terrible doubts.

For two days now, she'd been locked in this cell without visitors, without a word from Taylor. He had isolated her completely, refused to answer her calls. This time it didn't hurt her – she'd come to expect such behavior from the Taylors, seeing how attached they were to silence, to denial – yet she felt confined, angry. She was a Sixer now, one of the enemies, and she didn't even deny it. To Skye the wellbeing of the camp was important, just as the safety of Terra Nova was. But Terra Nova was no longer her home.

How strange that the short separation had merely showed her how distanced she'd been from this community to begin with. Secrets weren't kept by keeping close friends. Her double life needed the distance to work, needed the time and unfamiliarity to support her lies.

The first few hours she'd been enraged. Yelling, banging on the bars, trying to get their attention. She had calmed down eventually, realizing this had been their intent from the start. Washington might've told Taylor about her arrival, but he didn't see her as the adoptive daughter anymore, just as he probably didn't see Lucas as his son either. Taylor didn't come running to her; he kept his distance, hoping to weaken her before the unavoidable interrogations.

Taylor probably thought she was the weak link now, the one who would give away the plan, the location of the camp, everything he could possibly ask.

She let him think that, sank into silence, resting listlessly on her bed and escaping to the depths of her mind. For two days she had time to think. And her rest here was uninterrupted, rejuvenating. The nightmares of her previous nights were dissipated here; she felt safe, as crazy as that was.

Lucas had left again, been torn her bloodied arms, before she could talk to him about the darkness inside, that easily annoyed lump that pressed her chest; How easy it had been to pull the trigger and end Curran's life, a man who had been her friend. The pain of Hicks' death was still fresh on her mind, the rage at Morris' tactics unyielding even in the face of his death. Skye had looked at the body on the ground, wondered how it looked as if Morris was still smiling as she stared down at him from the heights. That expression on his face, glee perhaps, had remained with her even to this day.

She knew Morris had had spies in Terra Nova, that those people would probably be very interested in her presence here. Yet no one had come, or made an effort to contact her. For a moment there, Skye had wondered whether it had all been a ruse: just a ploy in the mind of a sick man to get them to doubt one another. Then she'd realized it wasn't a risk worth taking. The others had sought to find out the identity of the spies, and she believed they would return with this information, _return to the portal only to be ambushed by Taylor._

The chill of the cell offered her no warmth. She squirmed beneath the blanket, unable to get a good position. The pleasant dream was invaded by fear. Suddenly the soldiers were everywhere, grabbing onto her and Lucas, forcing them down on their knees. Gunshots made her jump in her sleep, startle awake almost violently. Within seconds the dream ended, and she was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding onto her necklace, the one Hicks had given her.

It calmed her down some once she realized it was just some sort of a rehearsal going on outside. Skye reached for the water bottle on the floor and took a long gulp. She then examined her hand, made sure the splint was still in place. It seemed sound, even if traces of blood were all over her bandaged hand. Skye had expected Taylor to send in Elizabeth, but apparently medical assistance wasn't necessary for Sixers. She didn't mind the splint though; it was a small price for the pleasure of slugging Morris.

With a deep breath, she rose to her feet, stretching her sore muscles and moving a bit in the confined space. Time was running out; Eventually Lucas would come back, his recovery would advance to the point of their return, and they would blow Hope Plaza in their wake. Her job had been to convince Taylor of their intentions, but she had misread him. Now that the conflict had ascended to the next level, his main priority was Terra Nova. Neither Lucas nor Skye mattered if they were a threat to the colony.

Skye cleaned her face with the little water she had left, and sat on her bed again, leaning against the wall. Time passed by excruciatingly slow here.

Sometime later she was finally greeted by a guest. It was Guzman, Tasha's father.

"Taylor will see you now, Skye," he said calmly, peering at her through the bars. Skye returned his gaze lifelessly, and dragged herself to the door next, turning around and surrendering her wrists for the handcuffs.

"We're not going to put on handcuffs," Guzman said, surprising Skye for once. "Just come quietly, and don't make trouble. That way we can walk freely," he advised, sounding almost fatherly.

She nodded at him, still unable to find words for the occasion. A part of her wanted to ask about Tasha, and another wanted to be oblivious to her feelings. No matter what, she would be a Sixer whore in some corner of the colony and a murderer in another, so it was better not to think about it. Skye allowed Guzman to escort her down the narrow corridor of the cellblock.

They walked for a short while, ending up in the isolation room. It felt good to be able to stretch your arms and legs, even if it was just for awhile. Guzman showed her inside and told her to wait for Taylor there, exiting almost immediately himself. Skye didn't hold her breath. She slid down the wall, as her feet slowly gave in after awhile, and she ended up sitting on the corner, waiting.

Of course she knew what this room was for, what they had done to Boylan here. Interrogation for un-cooperative prisoners, that's what the room was for. Constant noise that prevented sleep, starvation, pain, shocks, basically Taylor had a variety of torture methods available. Would he use them on her, it was still a bit muddy in her head. Maybe just the fear of being tortured would enough to get her to talk in his mind.

She cradled her bandaged arm on her lap, thinking of Lucas' promise to make everything right. He was keeping his end somewhere far away, in another timeline, whereas she was caught here, making the same mistakes. Could she still rely on Taylor after everything?

She heard steps in the distance, and looked up to find the Commander standing in front of her. The door was closed in the distance, and his eyes were harsh.

"How are you holding up Skye?" Taylor asked her tentatively. There was worry in his expression, genuine concern for her wellbeing.

And then, "Whose blood is that on you?"

Finally a question she could answer. Skye smiled at him weakly, realizing only now how utterly tired she was. The events that had taken place recently had exhausted her thoroughly, and the danger just wouldn't end!

"Mostly Lucas," she replied, observing Taylor's reaction to her words. He was iron, nothing readable on his face.

"Is he alive?" Taylor questioned next, still standing whilst Skye sat.

"He wanted to negotiate a new deal between his employer and the Sixers. That man declined his offer and stabbed him through his hand. We managed to stop the bleeding, get the wound cauterized, but it was bad. Carter had to carry him through the portal in hopes of getting him to a hospital," she told him, reliving those horrible moments.

"I thought the calculations were lost," Taylor spoke aloud.

Perhaps he was musing more to himself than her. She answered him though, "No, they were always in his head."

"I'm sorry you had to live through that," he apologized. But Skye suspected he was referring to the Curran incident as well, seeing how the deal with Morris really wasn't his fault.

"It was never going to be easy with him. I could tell he was damaged from the first time we met," Skye explained, sounding softer now. She could see Lucas face by the water, as he explained about his family, about being alone. She remembered how much she'd wanted to tell him things would be alright.

Then she was looking straight at him, her former Commander, her second father. "He didn't run from me. He went to 2149 to cut all bonds with his employer, to bring everyone's families," she confirmed, thinking Taylor had the wrong idea about his son.

And Taylor raised a surprised brow in response. "That's why you're here? To convince me that _Lucas wants peace_?" he questioned, disbelievingly.

"I'm asking you to give your son the benefit of the doubt, before you shoot him on sight at that portal," she responded. Her heart was bare in front of him, no lies or secrets emerged from its depths. It was honesty reflected all over Skye's face. She may have looked older (a completely different person altogether), yet this was her truthful face.

He remembered what it had felt like to know she had lied countless times with that same face, showing no signs of weakness or hesitation. Taylor knew better than to let his emotions override reason this time. Lucas would say the same thing to him, beg theatrically on his knees for forgiveness, and then stab him in the back when the opportunity arrived. He didn't really know Skye at all. He saw how quickly she had adapted into the Sixer community, how quickly her loyalties had changed, how quickly she'd come to love his son. Taylor didn't have a constant for her, not even her mother had had a real effect on her.

"Lucas is coming to attack us, Skye," Taylor said patiently, repeating the same mantra he'd argued about for days now. No one else knew his son; some had claimed that since no one was injured at the portal when it had been breached meant that the Sixers could have a peaceful intent. He didn't believe it for a second!

"I'm sorry you can't see that," he continued, drawing another deep breath. There was pity in his eyes: pity for the young woman who'd fallen in love with his deranged son and still believed his lies.

"He can't forgive you yet, but he's trying to fix at least some of his mistakes," Skye claimed, turning her eyes from Taylor. She couldn't stand looking at his judgmental face. "You should give him a chance, you might get surprised."

" _Might_ isn't good enough, Skye. With him the odds aren't good at all…," he recalled the painful times he'd tried to reach for his son and been rejected. He thought of the favors he'd done (getting the assault charges dropped, securing him an apartment, mentioning his name around…) and how Lucas had seen each as some kind of vote of distrust. Pain sneaked into his expression.

Lucas needed to be captured, his army disbanded. In the end Terra Nova was all that mattered.

Skye could hear it in his voice: the denial, the hurt. It was useless to try and convince him this way. It was useless to expect Lucas to behave rationally with his father. It was useless to ask his father to take the first step after so many failed attempts. She pressed her head in defeat, biting her lip nervously.

"Then I suppose we have nothing else to talk about," she concluded.

Taylor didn't agree with her on that one though.

"Tell me where the Sixer camp is, Skye," Taylor demanded, finding more confidence in his voice now that the topic was less personal.

Skye didn't look at Taylor, just stared at her hands resting in her lap. "I'm not giving away the location of their home," she said.

"Skye, you need to tell me where they are," Taylor asked again, this time sounding a bit more aggressive.

"They have children there," she frowned ominously, as if seeing the effect the sound of approaching troops would have on them.

"They are murderers and thieves. They are the very people, who starved your mother and held her hostage," Taylor hissed, seeking for a way to get under her skin.

"Terrible deeds yes, but it's as you said, desperate times demand desperate measures," she countered, shooting him with a hostile look. The memory of his words, concerning his choice to trust Curran, was still fresh on her mind.

"Do a thousand civilians deserve to die, so that they can mine this land?" he asked her, crossing his arms across his chest. Skye wasn't impressed with his audacity.

"You would save only a thousand from the millions that suffer in the future?"

Her question hung between them, forcing him to remember what it had been like: The smog, the thin air, the crowdedness, the lack of anything green. Of course he knew he couldn't save them all. Little by little Terra Nova had grown and given home for more and more people. But it could never be them all.

"You could come back, Skye," he told her then, sounding sincere, speaking this unspoken wish aloud.

She clenched her teeth, finding a part of herself that yearned for it. She'd settled in to the Sixer camp, in their strange customs and lives, yet her mother was still here and she missed these people every now and then. Of course the price of her readmission would be giving up the Sixers, giving up Lucas.

"I'm not telling you," she settled to remark.

Taylor exhaled visibly and looked elsewhere for awhile, shaking his head a bit. A silence stayed with them for nearly a minute.

"You're going to tell me, Skye. You'll tell me where the camp is, when Lucas is coming back, and what kind of an attack force he's bringing with him," Taylor listed before he walked away.

"You'll have to torture me!" she yelled after him, sounding willful but tired.

He didn't respond, and the door was shut after him.

Five minutes after the noise began. It wasn't loud enough to drown everything in its path – more likely it was intended to be a nuisance at this point – but it was there nevertheless. Skye laid herself on the floor, placing her head over her hand and closed her eyes.

She would change his mind. With some time, she would change his mind.

* * *

Lucas surveyed the event with cool detachment as he moved through the crowds, mingling. The pain medication was blocking the pain for now, but it prevented him from drinking, which was a shame because there was champagne everywhere. He'd shaven his face (with some assistance eventually) and dressed in the rental suit Sebastian had acquired for him. Sebastian had also been quick to offer him some stimulants (because he looked so weary still), but Lucas had rejected those.

He wore a glove on his injured hand, covering the bandages from prying eyes. The first few hours of the event Sebastian had paraded him around like a hero, making sure he was the limelight constantly. Lucas was their sales pitch – the man who'd returned from Terra Nova, the man who'd concurred time. The products differed from customer to customer, ranging from minerals to food, from water to exotic species, from plant life to luxurious trips into the wild. The Company had everything imaginable for sale through some subsidiary. And there was a lot of interest.

His face was strained from all the smiling, from the false interest he had to display. And he would tell them all stories of his time in the wild, surviving nature, when such jungles had been cut down for nearly a hundred years in this timeline. All of his listeners would be fascinated with the details, entranced by these tales. The only pleasure Lucas received from this experience, was the knowledge that none of these people would get what they wanted.

Of course there were sad fates in the middle of the greedy as well. Each time Lucas heard about a person or people he would helping with his invention, he could feel his heart bleed. Before he would've taken such compliments and praise as an ego boost, but now they just saddened him. Deep down he still wondered if the future should be saved. If the resources they could've mined would've saved the world. It was sad to know all these people would remember him as the man who closed the gates to Paradise at a later time.

In the end he was as selfish as any of them. The one who controlled the past, controlled the future, and he was in the way of that. It was either death by the Company's hands or salvation by cutting them off from the past. Morris had shown him the true face of these people, these men who signed off lives with their pens. Even Sebastian, who basked in glory and praise now, had undoubtedly been surprised that Lucas had made it back to 2149 in one piece.

The sales event was huge, and Sebastian was quick to claim it a success. Contracts were drawn in the small rooms through-out the evening, men in tuxes and women in cocktail dresses vanished with beautiful (paid) escorts into the upstairs all the time only to reappear some time later, and food and wine was wasted at every chance. Lucas felt disgust at watching the waste continue through-out the evening. He remembered how impressed he had been at the impressionable age of twenty when they had brought him to such an event, showing him the merits of working with them. He recalled feeling distaste over the flocking escorts, but relishing their company anyway.

"Why the glove?" some of the braver specimen would ask with intrigue.

"Life in the jungle isn't entirely without its dangers," Lucas would respond with a smirk.

"Why you're the most interesting scientist I've ever met, like modern… ummm… what was he called? Indiana Jones!" Someone would utter a half-hearted compliment.

"He was an Archeologist, I believe," Lucas would mention without much amusement.

At some point his would get tired in these uncomfortable shoes, and Lucas would retire to a comfy divan, until he would get dragged back into the heart of the noise and obnoxious crowds by Sebastian. And so they played on and on for hours...

Lucas retired at one point to one of the small rooms, closing the door behind him, hoping Sebastian would leave him alone for a minute. This spin near the customers was supposed to last an hour tops, but somehow Sebastian had made him dance all night to his tune so far. The doctor had been against it, warning them both against Lucas being on his feet too much and especially against drinking alcohol. Of course Sebastian had made it his business to subtly mention that their employers wanted to get to Terra Nova as quickly as possible and were unsatisfied with Lucas' long recovery. It had been enough to push Lucas up from his bed early to convince them otherwise.

Now he was certain he'd served his purpose here. Lucas reached for his communicator in his pocket, having noticed signs of life some minutes earlier. He established connection with the others quickly.

"Lucas here. What's your progress?" he asked impatiently, hoping for anything to get him away from this torturous event.

"Window of opportunity open, boss. Should we take it?" Carter asked, sounding hopeful for once.

The announcement took Lucas by surprise. He hadn't expected it to happen so soon, least of all tonight.

"Is everything prepped?" He needed to make sure.

"Extraction needed for you and number eleven. Everything else is in order," someone else confirmed.

A pregnant pause landed between them, as Lucas reconsidered everything he'd learned.

"We do it tonight," he then confirmed and shut off his communicator in fear of being caught with it.

They had been gathering supplies, finding the people on that list, making preparations with the Company and the Phoenix Group back in Hope Plaza. The Plaza was full of the Company's supplies now; everyone was just waiting for the final pieces to fall in place, so access was granted to all of the Sixers in their group. The Company didn't expect a double cross, seeing how helpful everyone was being.

The sound of the door creaking behind him startled Lucas a bit, but he relaxed when he saw that it was just Sebastian. You could see the way the alcohol had blurred Sebastian's inhibitions, how his tie hung loose, the traces of lipstick on his jaw, the way he didn't eye Lucas evaluating at all, but embraced Lucas with warmth.

"Come on Golden Boy," Sebastian chuckled and motioned Lucas towards the crowds again. "I have yet more audience for you."

He was holding a champagne glass in his hand and his hair was disheveled. For once, Lucas let his guard down a bit in front of this man.

"I have served for hours here, Sebastian. Now the pain is too much. I need to retire for the evening," he explained, getting a frown in response from the slightly older man. Lucas made a face at his disbelief. "It's not like I'm a housewife vetoing sex for a headache. Honestly, the injury is painful."

"Fine then!" Sebastian waved Lucas down with disappointment. "You're missing the party of the century Taylor, but whatever!"

His coordination seemed poor, and Lucas pondered how much exactly this man had already drunk tonight. The contemplation didn't last long though. Lucas straightened himself and fixed his appearance a bit, making his way towards the door. He took a good look at Sebastian when he passed the man by, trying to reminiscence why his face had been so terrifying in the jungle. Now as he looked at the man, he saw but a fool, dancing madly to the Company's tune.

A bit of regret surfaced, as Lucas realized he was condemning this man to death as well. It passed quickly, when Sebastian patted Lucas on the back, whilst giggling drunkenly, "Don't worry, Taylor, I'll have the security escort you back to your room."

Lucas stopped a bit. "I'm sure I can manage on my own," he noted with an icy tone.

"Nonsense!" Sebastian resisted, his speech turning more and more into a drunken slur. "You're our top asset, you need babysitters."

He then stepped outside the small room, whistling loudly. "Ahoy!" he yelled, gaining the attention of the nearest security person.

"Mr. Taylor needs a ride home. And I think he needs _a ride_ as well, if you know what I mean? Five years in the jungle without a woman can get you kind of… wound tight." Sebastian winked at his audience, supporting a huge grin. He found his own jokes quite clever.

Lucas proceeded to walk away from Sebastian, noticing how his inhibitions had made an exit. The pathetic fool was now speaking everything that was on his mind. Under normal circumstances he didn't tolerate fools who paraded themselves, but this time there were more pressing matters at hand. He couldn't afford to make a scene by saying goodbye to Sebastian _properly_.

Lucas reached the elevators and found himself surrounded by two security persons, both tall and intimidating men. They then made their way into the elevator together.

* * *

Carter approached the apartment by sneaking, followed closely by Ludmila. Everyone else was already at work by transporting supplies at the portal. Only Perkins had the assignment to secure Lucas. They had agreed to smuggle the civilians into Hope Plaza by sticking them into a container. The Sixers would carry the needed supplies, and infiltrate the security detail of Hope Plaza (which was provided the Company naturally) at midnight to secure the portal.

The hardest part had been purchasing the explosives, and keeping this activity off-radar. Luckily some of them still had their old contacts in 2149. They now had enough explosives to blow up Hope Plaza off the face of the city for good.

Timing was the key to their plans however. The preparations had been near-complete for a day now, but Lucas had wanted to avoid drawing unnecessary attention. The window of opportunity was tonight; most of the Phoenix Group soldiers were on leave, the top brass of the Company was hosting their sales event and supplies were driven to Hope Plaza almost every hour. Containers full of weapons, technology, vehicles, clothing, etc. was being loaded into the storage. With the next pilgrimage months away no one was looking at the Plaza, which was why the Company had been able to bribe its way to the portal.

All they needed now was a little girl and their leader, who was under constant supervision.

Gladly Sienna wasn't being watched that carefully. Carter had had a chance to examine the security for days now, and after his visit, he'd concluded that the main problem was getting into the building – beyond that the Company hadn't secured her much. The sitter undoubtedly kept a close watch on her, and she had her drivers taking her everywhere, but it wasn't like she was under constant supervision from armed troops.

The two reached the door, each stepping on separate sides, clad in identical combat boots and cargo pants with leather jackets. Ludmila had long jet black hair that reached herback, thick lashes and a cruel smirk. Her complexion was pale. She supported an overgrown, messy fringe on her forehead and had a toned body. An immigrant girl without a future before the Company had given her a chance. Now she was just trying to get her family back together.

Carter gave her a wordless signal, and she nodded, grasping her gun between her hands. He then knocked on the door lightly and stepped into view for the peephole, knowing the sitter wouldn't otherwise open the door. A moment passed, and then he heard the locks being opened on the other side. A tired and unprofessional blonde appeared into the doorway, and she shot Carter with a displeased glance.

"Mr. Carter! You cannot come in here unannounced!" she exclaimed, trying to appeal to his sense of etiquette. Too bad for her, he didn't have it.

Ludmila stepped from behind the door, pressing a gun at the sitter's forehead. It froze her completely. Fear spread across each limb and body part, while she gazed into Ludmila's dark eyes, realizing that this assailant wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger if it was called for.

"Apologies," Carter mumbled as he pushed past the sitter into the apartment and then pressed a small cloth against her nose. She fainted quickly into Carter's arms, and the two thieves in the night pressed into the apartment and closed the door behind them.

Carter passed the unconscious woman into Ludmila's arms, making his way to the bedroom where Sienna was at. Ludmila began dragging the sitter towards the other bedroom. She pushed the door open, when she realized there was a half-dressed man in the bed, clearly waiting for the sitter. One glimpse at him showed her muscles, training, and trouble. She had a half-formed thought about him being one of the drivers for Sienna, which would make his _dealings_ with the sitter quite _unprofessional_.

Ludmila tossed the sitter aside, and reached for her gun, but got jumped by the man, as he charged at her. Suddenly they were both on the floor, trying to reach the gun he'd thrown out of her hand.

"Carter!" Ludmila roared as the man gained upper hand due to his size. She felt his fingers digging into her hair, clawing at her scalp and yelped in pain a moment later. She then kneed him to the groin, sunk her teeth in his neck, drawing blood. He flinched enough for her to push him off, and roll over him.

As Carter got into the room she was already punching the man senseless. Carter joined in by knocking him unconscious with the nearest object in sight, a Plex lying on the table. He broke it of course, but couldn't care less. Ludmila stopped hitting the unconscious man, and was left panting for a few seconds. Carter extended his hand for his partner to help her back on her feet, and examined the dark bruise on her face once she was standing.

"Go get the kid," she groaned, and grimaced at the pain that was only now beginning to flood her senses. Carter didn't need to be persuaded; he set off towards Sienna's room again, while Ludmila dragged the two unconscious guardians away from the door and closed it behind her to keep them out of sight.

Carter opened the bedroom door carefully, calling for the girl. "Sienna? It's time to go," he said softly, putting his hands in view, as the light in the corridor lit him, to show he was unarmed.

Something moved beneath the covers, and then she appeared into view. She looked barely awake with her half-closed eyes and messy hair. When she noticed Carter though, her demeanor changed.

"Is it time to go see mom?" she asked hopefully, surprisingly unmoved by Carter's sudden reappearance. He realized she must've been half-asleep. Perhaps the panic would kick in later?

"Yes dear, it's time," he moved in front of her bed, kneeling down. "Help me pack a few things you need. We need to be quick," he explained.

Once again her reactions surprised him. Carter was prepared to drug her, to take out kicking and screaming, yet her calmness was unexpected. Sienna rose from her bed, kicking the covers aside eagerly, and running to the cabinets. She began taking out clothes, of which he only agreed to pick up some, before she moved onto toys, surprisingly picking only one of them, a dinosaur.

Carter put everything inside the back pack he'd brought with him. He remembered he'd let Mira explain the details carefully: everything from medications to other necessary items. Once Sienna was done, he picked up her rebreather from the table and took her hand, pulling her towards the door.

Upon realizing she was still moving slow and groggy, he stopped and picked her up, lifting her over his arm. They were met by Ludmila in the corridor, and Carter could feel Sienna's grip around his neck tighten at the sight of the unfamiliar woman.

"That's Ludmila, she's really nice. She's my partner," he whispered, unable to completely wash away her doubts. Ludmila didn't mind, she winked at the girl before they headed for the door in unison.

TBC


	26. King's Gambit

Lucas eyed his tainted reflection in the elevator's reflective wall. He'd opened the top buttons of his shirt, loosened his tie, and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up a moment ago. His suit jacket hung over his arm and his uninjured hand was hidden in his pocket, whilst the injured hand was still covered by a glove. The details were muddled on his reflection; the wall didn't betray his expression, or the way his eyes kept glancing at the screen that displayed the floor they were currently in. It was a long way down from the penthouse of the skyscraper, and the descent felt like eternity now.

The two men by his each side observed him, appearing non-threatening, yet absorbing every detail with an analytical eye. Each was tall and broad-shouldered, clad in a neat suit that showed they weren't party guests but didn't specify their purpose either. Lucas knew the type though: hired help for special needs. These men probably knew how to make men disappear after spilling their secrets in desperate attempts to avoid their fate. These men were here to make sure he stayed put like a good pet, not a valued asset.

He hadn't given up the calculations yet; it was the reason he was still alive. Lucas knew they had been asking about them from the others, searched for a copy that would've spared them effort of getting back in his good graces, but Lucas had made sure none existed. There was still the issue of the copy in Terra Nova, but he was certain the Company didn't know about it yet.

They reached the ground floor finally, and all three exited the elevator in a controlled manner. Lucas received his overcoat and rebreather from the lobby, as well as other personal belongings (he was certain they had searched through these items thoroughly while he'd attended the party and found nothing of interest). The two men also received their overcoats and followed Lucas outside, where the air was thin and murky and worked as slow poison to anyone who dared to breathe it freely.

Lucas stopped one of the men from waving down a taxi, pointing at the approaching car instead. He had a ride already, and it was here right on schedule. The car slid in front of them, stopping at the desired spot. The second bodyguard opened Lucas the door to the backseat, and followed him once he was there. The first man settled to sit in the front seat.

"Mr. Taylor," a voice called from the front seat. Lucas met with the gaze of the driver through the rear-view mirror, and nodded with acceptance as he stared into Perkins' eyes.

"My hospital suite, please," Lucas requested, staring outside through the darkened windows. The people walking outside like wraiths dragged themselves onwards, dreaming of a lucky chance, of winning the lottery. He felt like a villain to take this chance from them forever. Alas, it was unavoidable now.

Perkins drove off, joining the traffic just as expected. Lucas fixed his position on the backseat, reaching for the hidden weapon between the door and the seat. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary, even as Perkins drove the car with only hand on the wheel, and grasped a gun in his other hand. He glanced at Lucas through the mirror again, seeking the signs of approval, a confirmation that he had found the gun.

"Did you enjoy the evening, ?" Perkins asked, failing to gain eye contact. His voice sounded light, harmless, even if his intent was anything but. He changed lanes, driving along in the hectic traffic peacefully.

Lucas gained hold of the gun seconds after, and he turned to look at Perkins through the mirror now. "It was a very fruitful evening. I believe we have laid ground for a wonderful future," he then commented, sounding perfectly normal up until the moment he turned to the man beside him and aimed the gun at his side, pulling the trigger instantly.

Perkins didn't move noticeably as he brought the gun over his stomach and fired it at the man beside him. The silencers were on, only muffled noises marked this silent execution. Lucas fired a couple of times more to ensure the man beside him was dead. Perkins settled for the one shot; he could see the man beside him grow limp and lean onwards as if passed out from the corner of his eye.

The illusion of calmness broke as Lucas pushed himself to the middle seat and checked the pulse of the man he'd shot. He didn't feel anything beneath his fingers, and when he looked at the man's face, he quickly confirmed he was dead.

"Is everything in order?" Lucas asked with worry. He glanced at the time that showed in the front panel of the car. It was quarter past midnight by now.

"Carter called in to say they got Mira's kid. Six have infiltrated the Plaza already, two are watching the container," Perkins gave an update calmly, placing the gun in the holster that rested by his side.

"Are they using lethal force?"

"Yes."

It should've bothered him, yet it didn't. He wondered if his father had justified his feud with the Sixers the same way – killing them mercilessly, because they had made their choice. His voice faltered a bit with the next question. "Did you contact the camp?"

The thought of Skye still helped hold him together: The thought that maybe they could live together without enemies, without danger.

"There was no way to do that with a secure line," Perkins spoke softly, sounding a bit regretful, almost apologizing.

So there was no way of knowing what waited them at the other end? Lucas settled for what he could get. If they were gunned down at the portal, so be it. They had tried at least. According to Skye that was all that mattered.

* * *

Taylor still lingered with the decision to increase the volume of the noise. This was nothing, this was a mere annoyance. If he wanted to torture her, he'd need to do something much worse. But he couldn't quite go there.

It had been easy with Boylan; rage had clouded his mind and driven him into acting. It'd been easy to torture the enemy in war ravaged countries, knowing their crimes, hearing the cries of their victims. But Skye was another matter. She was just a kid, nineteen years old, soon to be twenty, and her only crime had been to act in an impossible situation.

Her betrayal stung of course, he was just a man after all. His reason couldn't paint her as the enemy no matter what she wore, or said, or didn't say. He could reason with her shooting Curran, with her helping Lucas, even with her providing Intel to the Sixers to aid her mother. But it was too much to ask for him to trust her after everything. She'd taken everything he'd given her, spat it back in his face, and then asked for more.

In three years he'd come to love her like a daughter, and in just three weeks she'd done her best to hurt him in a way only his son had succeeded before.

By reason she was a terrorist and a liar. By his heart she was confused girl in love with a mirage his son had created to woo her with. In no reality were the words she spoke real. It was too good to be true. A brilliant strategy from Lucas though: to send her to beg for safe passage.

"You're wasting time," Skye commented, holding her head high even through this ordeal. "If you really want your precious answers, you'll need to do better than this."

Taylor didn't have a witty come back for her, he couldn't even squash her rebellion with a stern look. So he chatted with her instead, motioning for them to stop the noise for now. It ended a few seconds later, causing Skye's tense shoulders to relax, as if she hadn't even realized how much the sound had affected her.

"No one's come for you," he said softly, offering her a small tissue to wipe the sweat from her face. She took it and used it to clean herself. He could see she wasn't surprised by his announcement, drew his own conclusions from it.

"Are they all in 2149, meeting with the bosses?" he asked her, sounding almost sympathetic.

Skye hesitated, not knowing how much she ought to keep to herself. He was standing in front of her again, after abandoning her here for most of the day. She didn't know the time, but she assumed it had to be night-time by now. He'd left her in here for countless hours to be softened by the noise, perhaps expecting her to be more helpful at this late hour.

"Only a handful," she replied eventually, seeing no reason to lie.

"Because they will bring reinforcements, I suppose?" Taylor speculated. His comment drew another sour look of disappointment from her.

"So who got left behind? Carter?" he asked, observing her reactions closely. No matter how hard she tried to veil her body language, Skye was tired and in a constant state of unease. He could see his guess had been wrong.

"Mira?" Taylor said with surprise, frowning at the thought. "I'd have thought she'd jump at a chance to get back to her daughter," he then said. "I suppose that was a lie as well."

Skye's head snapped at the charge, her eyes drilled into his. "She wanted nothing more," she said, eager to defend the woman. "But she couldn't go, not with her injury."

Taylor was surprised to realize Skye's reverie for the woman. Mira was a harsh person, someone who knew when pleasantries weren't needed. He couldn't imagine these two growing close, yet it was evident they had.

"You should understand, as a fellow parent," Skye continued, pointing the attention to Taylor again. "She excluded herself so her child would have the best chance to be saved. I imagine you would've done the same for Lucas upon a time."

Memories flooded Taylor. He remembered the scrawny boy, covered in dirt and blood, refusing to let go of his father's hand. He remembered the guilt that had chained him for not choosing Ayani. He remembered the countless times he'd sat by the kitchen table, drink in hand, gun in another. He'd made sure Lucas wouldn't be there to see those moments, that he could live his teens without seeing his father's weakness, his guilt.

In retrospect maybe that had been his failing.

Skye saw something in Taylor's stoic front, a crack in his armor. "Maybe that's why you won't torture me," she said, understanding it now. "You don't stop being a parent just because your child lets you down."

Taylor faced her scanning gaze bravely, that earlier sign of weakness gone already. "Terra Nova is my first priority over any one person," he told her. "Hell will freeze before I let anyone, even my son, destroy what we've built here."

And they were back in square one. Taylor drew a long breath to calm himself.

"Your mother keeps asking about you," he then said. "I don't know what to tell her."

"Tell her the truth," she simply answered.

"The truth would break her heart," he countered with a frown, unable to understand how she could this comfortable with her choices. He kept trying to leave the door open for her, and she kept trying to push it closed instead. "Is that what you want?" Taylor asked her.

But Skye had already told Deborah everything, already made peace with her mother. "Don't turn it into a sacrifice," she whispered, shaking her head. "I told her everything when I left her. She wanted me to do so. But I didn't go to Lucas for her; I went to Lucas for me."

And it dawned on her that Taylor didn't have words for this situation even now. Asking him to explain it to Deborah, or anyone else for the matter, would've only led to further confusion. He couldn't explain, because he could not understand.

"I think he hates you because he feels you abandoned him," she dared to say aloud. "He's not an easy person to love by any means, but underneath his façade he's just lonely. And I think he hurt you, because he felt that he couldn't get you to love him."

Taylor listened to her insights, feeling the stung of her accusation. Had he abandoned his son? He had tried to give Lucas a life worth living, opened doors for him, helped cope with his mistakes. He had wanted something better for his son, and so he had made sure his son didn't know his own nightmares. Had Lucas seen it as abandonment? Had he really thought he didn't love his son?

"None of that matters anymore," he settled to remark. "Terra Nova won't pay for my mistakes."

Skye wanted to scream aloud.

"The man that came from the future, Morris. He showed Lucas the true face of the men he was dealing with," Skye claimed, desperation sneaking into her voice. "And Lucas realized _he'd been wrong_. He realized _he cares for the Sixers_ , that they're his family. And you know what? They're my family too."

Taylor wanted to interrupt her, but she wouldn't let him. "Yes, _they're my family_. Because they didn't need to take me in, give me shelter, laugh with me, cry with me, defend me… and yet they did all that. These _murderers and thieves_ , as you call them, gave me a chance."

Taylor hadn't really considered it before. And suddenly he thought about Mira running to the rescue whenever a single Sixer was in danger. She'd _always_ come for them.

"So where are they now?" he asked with a grave voice, feeling sad for Skye for having such faith only to be disappointed.

"I came here willingly," Skye replied. "If you had taken me, they would've come."

And she believed every word. Had they really embraced her so? Impressed her this thoroughly?

An announcement ended the moment, Washington's voice calling to Taylor through the intercom.

"Sir, we have activity at the portal," she called.

Oxygen hurt Skye's lungs suddenly. Was it already time? No! It couldn't be! She needed more time!

She turned her disturbed eyes at Taylor, who marked her distress clearly. He realized then she hadn't known about any schedules. Lucas was coming now, and he needed to act.

Skye rose to her feet, grabbing Taylor's hand. "Please," she pleaded eyes wide. "If _you ever loved me_ , don't use lethal force. Give him a chance," she begged.

Taylor didn't say anything as he headed off after tearing his arm from her grip. He walked away with a grim expression. He was heading off to war, a final showdown between father and son. The portal would be the stage for their reunion and goodbye.

Tears streamed down her face as she buried her face in her hands and waited. It was all out of in her hands now.

* * *

No one looked twice at the truck that drove into the cargo area once their plates were checked at the gate. Ludmila adjusted her cap to make sure her face was obscured by most camera angles, but Perkins looked onwards without such fear. He scanned for guards that weren't one of theirs, spotting them one by one, marking each position in his memory.

She parked the truck at the designated spot, and seconds later the crane grabbed the container they were hauling, and pulled it off the truck to begin transporting to the correct area. They had fiddled with the papers, made sure it was put as close to the portal as possible. Perkins gave his female companion a look, facing her dark eyes. They rose from the truck in unison afterwards, waving at the guards, asking for directions to the break room. No one paid much attention.

Once in the corridor they were met by two others. With one swipe of a card, the lock on the door jammed, effectively closing the doors behind them. Ludmila tossed her cap and pulled out her gun discreetly.

"Carter and Lucas are in the container with the civilians," she explained to the others.

"Stannis and Ellis are set to close off the doors to the Plaza, but we'll need Lucas to operate the portal," one of the others, man by the name of Crowley, explained as they walked down the corridor.

"The container will be dropped to the front row by the portal, but the run through the bridge will leave them exposed. Dyson found a sniper's perch, so he'll cover them, but there's no guarantee he'll get back himself," Crowley spoke again.

Perkins was leading them down the corridor. Their paste was quick, the sound of their combat boots might've been alarming, but no one else approached the Plaza through here. It was a maintenance route mostly unused. They had learned about it via a contact that used it to smuggle extras to the Plaza during pilgrimages.

Meanwhile the container was transported to the Plaza, where the Portal Hall was full of containers already. The Company had been busy preparing the invasion. Lucas leaned against the wall inside, squatted next to Carter and the little girl, who wouldn't let go of him. With them the container was carrying over twenty civilians of all ages.

Lucas glanced at his watch in the darkness. It was five to two am. This was the dead hour of the night. He prayed that all of their preparations had been enough. You couldn't see the faces of others in the dark, but he could hear them all right: whimpers, sighs, nervous movement, and whispered questions. But Mira's kid was silent by Carter, which surprised Lucas. The whole time he'd seen the two of them, the little girl had been squeezing Carter's hand. Her grip hadn't faltered even once.

Then their descent began, the crane had found the correct spot and was lowering them to it. Lucas braced himself, hoping the civilians wouldn't get jumpy now. This was the hard part; the part where a single mistake would get them all caught and ruin the chance of reunion for good. He felt hot and cold at the same time. His good hand held the gun firmly. The pain in his injured hand had subsided after he'd taken his last medicate for the night. Lucas hadn't felt this focused in days.

The container met with the ground with a thump, and the crane let go of them. Everyone stopped breathing for a moment in anticipation as Lucas begged for them to keep quiet. The plan was simple; the others would open the container once the route was clear: the doors jammed, the guards killed or otherwise disabled and they had their window.

He seemed to wait forever though; seconds stretched on and turned into minutes until he could hear steps outside. Lucas inched closer to the door, pointing his gun at it, making sure he'd get the first shot if it wasn't an ally greeting them at the other end. The lock begun to turn on the door, the gears inside made a distinct sound as they fell into place, and the door opened. Lucas' hands didn't shake as he held his gun pointed, ready for anything.

Relief washed over him as the face of Crowley appeared into view. He smirked at his boss, whispering, "All clear."

Lucas turned to Carter, who was finally visible to him again, bathing in the light that the door let in. "Keep them inside, until we give the signal," he advised.

Carter nodded at him, and Lucas set off through the door. Perkins and Ludmila entered the container after him, each carrying a light stick. They searched for the bomb; it still needed to be planted, so they could cover their tracks and destroy Hope Plaza in their wake. Lucas let them be, and headed towards the secondary contol panel near the start of the bridge. Breaking into the Control Room was too dangerous, but he knew he could hack the panel right here and force the portal open that way.

Crowley stood by him as he started his work, pulling out a Plex from his back pack, and connecting it to the panel. He fed the panel a virus that spread quickly, isolating it from the rest of the system, making it believe that the commands it received came from the Control Room instead of Lucas' Plex. Crowley scanned their surroundings, wiping the sweat on his forehead to the sleeve of his jacket.

He was in his thirties, a former military man, who'd become a soldier of fortune. Crowley spotted Dyson in the distance, keeping an eye on things below through the sight of his rifle. The others had taken cover by the containers, and were watching the various entrances they had jammed. Perkins worked with Kunis, making sure there were no alarms or disturbances in the Plaza that could alert their presence to their former employers.

Lucas worked as fast as he could, bypassing security, setting the perimeters of the portal in order for it to function properly. He checked everything thrice, before opening the connection to the portal on the other side. In seconds the portal began to power up. It was the beginning of the end, and it set off the warning announcement that sounded in the entire premise.

"THE PORTAL HAS BEEN ACTIVATED. THE GATEWAY WILL OPEN IN T-MINUS TWO MINUTES."

Lucas turned to Crowley, having anticipated this. "Get everyone ready!" he roared, knowing it was no use to avoid making noise now. Everyone knew they were in here, and the place would be flooded with security soon.

Crowley ran to the container, forcing the door open fully now. "Time to go!" he yelled and waved at the civilians to get on their feet and up. Carter rose first, pulling the little girl in his wake.

In the sidelines Ludmila was setting the bomb. She smiled faintly as the launch keys were finally in place and the countdown began. She'd given them four minutes, which was generous according to Perkins, but one couldn't be too careful. The clock began to tick down, but she closed it from prying eyes, putting a lid on the controls. Then she proceeded to plant several smaller charges all over, sticking them to the containers, hoping they would provide enough cover for the Sixers to run. Once done, she tossed Crowley the remote with a wink and walked to Perkins, joining him and Kunis, prepared to give cover fire.

Lucas placed the Plex over the Control Panel and watched as the gate powered up, lighting like a Christmas tree. It was quite beautiful really, hauntingly so. For a moment he just stared in trance, thinking how this moment was nothing like he'd imagined all those years ago. But it felt right, this was right. And that was all that mattered.

"THE GATEWAY WILL OPEN IN T-MINUS ONE MINUTE."

People gathered behind him at the base of the bridge, but he prevented anyone from going further. No one should approach the portal while it powered up; it wasn't that safe. Somewhere in the hall the doors were being banged as the security was trying to get in. Lucas exchanged looks with Carter.

"You go in first," Carter said to both Crowley and Lucas. It was better that at least some of them would pave the way for the civilians as there was no knowing who was there to greet them.

Lucas nodded, glancing at the little girl by Carter. He then returned his eyes to Carter, beckoning him to let go of the child if he really intended to go in last. Carter loosened his grip on Sienna in response, but she grabbed him in desperation, unwilling to let go. Panic visited the little girl's eyes, and she shook her head almost violently at him, refusing to be put in the middle of the civilians. Carter surrendered then, knowing he couldn't force her.

"INTRUDERS, YOU HAVE PARTICIPATED IN AN UNAUTHORIZED USE OF THE PORTAL. SURRENDER IMMEDIATELY," a strict voice announced through the speakers, succeeding only in making the Sixers smirk in unison.

"Now that's _desperate_ ," Crowley chuckled at his comrades.

"THE GATEWAY WILL OPEN IN T-MINUS TEN SECONDS."

Lucas turned at the portal, seeing it in full light for the first time since he'd passed through over five years ago. They looked as it lit, and created a bright light at the center. A loud bang rang through the hall, and everyone either turned from the blinding light or shielded their eyes. By the time they could look back, they saw the portal open, a window of uncertainty leading straight to the past.

"Come on! It's time to run!" Lucas shouted at the civilians and turned to the portal himself. He then started running. They had two minutes. Crowley was yelling at them behind him, urging them to run, for parents to pull their kids, for everyone to hurry.

Lucas ran up the bridge and towards the light, the fog at the center of the gate. He heard noises behind him, but he wouldn't let himself stop. There was no time. He ran, and his muscles began to ache, his body to wail after a week of being bedridden, but he forced himself onwards. Gunfire sounded in the distance, but stopping meant becoming a target, so he carried on. It was the only way.

Crowley yelled at the civilians, herding them onwards as they followed Lucas towards the portal. Shots were being fired behind them, but so far the Sixers were able to return fire, suppress the approach. He just prayed it would enough.

Once the last civilian was on the bridge, Carter set in motion, pulling Sienna in his wake. He quickly realized that she couldn't keep up, and upon hearing the first gunshot, he acted against his sense, relying on his instinct instead; He stopped to pick her up.

The pain came unexpectedly, sharply. He found himself gasping, but didn't stop to think about it. He grabbed her in his arms and ran. His entire body shook, her tiny arms clutched him, and he could hear her whimpering. Sienna's head rested on his shoulder, and she could see what was happening all over. The Sixers that followed them were caught bullet rain, unable to advance as the security troops pushed onwards. She watched, unable to look away.

Lucas reached the portal, and turned against his basic sense. They had broken through, he realized in horror. Only he, Carter and Crowley were with the civilians.

"Blow it!" he yelled to Crowley, waving his hand to gain the man's attention. "Blow it!"

Carter felt the paralysis spread. His body was feeling heavier and heavier, which was why he nearly fell over when the loud bang sounded behind him. He forced himself onwards, even as he heard Sienna cry in joy over his shoulder. The girl saw the bright lights, the small explosions ravaging the containers around them, spreading smoke, death and confusion amidst the security, providing the others a much needed window.

Perkins was the first to move, he pulled Kunis into running beside him. Ludmila followed next, joined by the others, and finally Dyson, who had abandoned his rifle. No one was providing cover now, but the smoke gave them some measure of safety, and the explosions had ravaged the troops that had entered. The security proceeded with care through the smoke, not seeing what they were shooting at. Stray bullets still flew, but they didn't know yet that no one was there to provide cover fire anymore.

Lucas flashed a relieved smile, and turned then, noticing a few others had reached the portal. They all looked up to him insecurely, not knowing what was happening.

"Time to go!" he yelled, before he took one final inhale and pushed himself through the fog, vanishing from this timeline forever. Others followed him, each finding less and less time to hesitate as the bullets began to follow them again.

By the time Carter was there, the other civilians had gone through. He'd slowed towards the end, the pain tearing at him. His breathing turned labored, his body shaking. But he smiled once they got there, and whispered, "Almost there, Princess."

Sienna turned her gaze, eyes widening at the sight of the portal, before he pushed them through with his last strength.

Bullets riddled Ludmila's back, each digging into her vest with force. None penetrated, but she could feel them push the air out of her lungs, crack a few ribs. Her steps faltered and she nearly fell, but Perkins caught her shoulder, pulled her in his wake for the last few meters to the portal. Dyson was the last to stand on the doorway, also hit in the vest with a few bullets. He saw the explosion, the big one, when it finally went off, and smiled while he jumped into the portal.

Fire filled Hope Plaza seconds later, drowning everything in its path. The Portal collapsed in the heat, the fog disappeared, and within a moment there was nothing left.

* * *

On the other side, Lucas emerged, fumbling through the portal, barely standing. He gasped, pain overriding everything, sending him spinning. He heard noise, but couldn't process. His legs betrayed him, gave out, leaving him kneeled on the ground. But his arms still worked; he pointed the gun at the source of the noise, trying his best to stay alert.

"Drop the gun or we'll shoot!"

His eyesight blurred, and then it was sharp again, but too late. He felt the shockwave smash into his body, and knock him down on the ground. Everything dimmed, cries sounding in the distance. Lucas blacked out only seconds before the Terra Nova troops gathered around him, guns pointed at his unconscious body.

TBC


	27. Tourniquet

Another nightmare invaded her rest. She twisted in her sleep, holding onto her blanket with an agonized expression, turning from one position to another. Waves crashed in her ears still, an unforgiving sea of sound penetrated by whispers: his words to her. And Mira was afraid she'd never hear his voice again.

Nothing had quite explained his fascination with her at first, she remembered. James Carter had been like anyone of them, appearing to be an ordinary pilgrim, yet held talent at keeping secrets. She remembered being hauled from the jungle, restricted to her bed for days after her discovery. Lucas' words had kept her alive, given her something to hold onto. By the time she could live in her house again, she'd noticed that the others were looking at her with suspicion, as if asking how she was still alive.

She had condemned those men for their cowardice, for their avarice and lack of compassion. The mission had been secondary in her mind for awhile then, only revenge had filled her mind. She had stalked her prey, paid attention to the slightest detail. And then one night she'd been at Boylan's, drinking with the rest, laughing, smiling. The drinking game had turned rougher than intended, alcohol had clouded her judgment. She recalled fumbling to the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror, hiding her knife in her boot, and then following one of them outside.

But James Carter had sharp eyes; he noticed her when no one else would, saw the contempt behind her smile. And it was him, who joined her as she walked, leading her astray from the path of vengeance.

_You don't want to do that now._

She remembered struggling, attempting to turn his intervention into a fist fight. It had been a bad attempt at best in her drunken state. He'd pinned her down to a wall, forced her to look at him and see the clarity in his eyes. This man she hadn't known had stopped her, held her down, and told her not to do it.

_What do you want, James?_

_You listen to me, Miranda, and listen good. You don't want to go down that path, trust me._

And with trembling lips, she had acquiesced. Since then he would always calm down her anger, pierce her raging emotions with his clarity, and be there to say things like they were.

The anxiety that constant fear for his safety brought her was choking her now, piercing through her dreaming state. Mira had asked him to find her daughter, trusting her most valued possession in his hands. But it had been over a week since he had gone, and she was finding his absence paralyzing.

"Mira!" a terrified voice called for her in the night, shaking her awake from her restless sleep. Mira opened her eyes, trying her best to calm herself, discard the nightmares, and put on her emotionless mask as always. It didn't seem as easy this time though.

"Mira!" the voice called again, sounding out of breath, full of urgency. Mira sat up on her bed quickly, pulled on her boots and belt, and set to find this source of disturbance outside. She walked with haste, tasting the outside air and soft rain that fell on her back. In a moment she was already wet, standing on the platform, gazing down at the figure that approached from the jungle, guided by a flashlight.

Others awoke as well, appearing into view on the platforms, searching for the source of noise. It was Kiya, she realized as the soaked woman appeared into view, panting almost violently. Mira leaned over the rope rail, fingers clutching the rope with bruising strength.

"They've returned!" Kiya shouted, catching her breath and trying to keep her voice steady. There was little joy in her announcement though, worry spread through the ranks of the Sixers quickly.

"Is everyone… alright?" Mira asked, feigning calmness, even as her fears clutched her chest unlike ever before. Kiya had been running through the jungle alone, her expression was haunted, distressed. It didn't bode well for the others.

"Taylor was waiting," Kiya responded, and tried to swallow her anguish. "The troops took them. They took them all to Terra Nova!"

Mira felt defeat wash through her, leave her weak in its wake. So Skye had failed. Taylor didn't appreciate the word of his adopted daughter like he used to, and clearly didn't trust the travelers, even after they had returned with a ragtag group of civilians instead of an army. What hope was there now?

"Did everyone make it?" someone asked from the sidelines, inducing new fear into Mira. Her fingers felt numb as the held onto the rope, waiting for the answer.

"I did a headcount the best I could," Kiya responded, pushing her wet hair behind her ear. She appeared uncertain, was driven by nothing but fumes at this point. "I believe everyone came through, not all the civilians on the list, but probably everyone they could bring."

Her answer drew sighs of relief from the crowd, but Mira saw their relief as premature. She could see it in the way Kiya stood there, beaten by the rain, avoiding looking at Mira's inquiring eyes. Something wasn't right.

"I'm sorry Mira," Kiya then said, tears climbing into her eyes. "Carter collapsed as soon as he got through the portal. Looked like he'd been shot," she revealed, shattering everything for their leader.

Everything seemed to freeze still. Raindrops descended her face and back, leaving a chill in their wake. But her eyesight was blurry for another reason; her own tears clouded it. She blinked, trying to grasp this news. Everyone was looking at her, expecting her to brush off the news coolly as usual. She couldn't this time though, for he was the one who got her to calm down and think clearly. He was the one who kept her out of trouble.

The waves crashed in her ears, prevented her from hearing the whispers around her. Kiya's voice had stood out because of its volume, but now everything was too silent to break through.

She imagined Carter standing by her, helping her walk to her hut, squeezing her hand.

_Don't scare me like that._

"We leave at first light," she then commanded, turning to gaze at everyone around them. Her voice was harsh and cutting. She was the Amazon again, riding into the settlement to deliver ultimatums to Taylor, just like in old times. No one dared to object, not when she looked at them like that, so driven.

* * *

It was the morning sun that woke him; it painted his eyelids scorching orange and red, depriving him of the restful dark. Lucas moved slowly, his limbs feeling incredibly heavy, probably due to a drug haze. But once his eyes were open, everything seemed to clear right before him. It was the infirmary, buzzing with doctors and nurses, running around the hospital beds with haste. He turned his head to his right, blinded by the sun that the window gave access.

Lucas turned from the sun quickly, choosing to look the other way instead. What he saw froze him though, snapped him right back to reality. A body rested on a bed next to him, a breathing tube helping to secure its breathing, countless wires connecting it to the computers. And by this bedside a small child rested, lost in sleep, clutching a hand.

Lucas flexed his muscles, tried to rise from the bed with the realization that Carter was the in the bed beside him, but something held him back; metal dug into his wrists, keeping him from sitting up. He glanced down and saw handcuffs that connected him to the bed, rendering him into nothing but a prisoner here. Lucas relaxed himself on the bed, tried moving his legs only to realize they were restrained as well. A bitter aftertaste of defeat filled his mouth. His father was taking no chances with him, was he?

He calmed himself down, searched his muddled memory for answers until he remembered the great escape from the future, the portal blowing up, the bullet rain they had run from. Lucas scanned around the room the best he could, locating others in the hospital beds: a few civilians, but mostly the Sixers involved in the mission. Ludmila passed out a few beds away, also restrained. Dyson shouting at the doctor further away, expression full of pain.

He then saw movement from the corner of his eye, noticed how the doctor stood over Sienna, probably contemplating whether it was possible to relocate her yet. Lucas imagined the kid putting up quite a fight to stay by Carter.

"Leave her be," he grunted weakly, gaining the attention of the doctor looking over Sienna. It was a woman with darker complexion, long hair. Her name tag said 'Shannon'. Lucas rolled his eyes in frustration, realizing this was Elizabeth Shannon, the same doctor who had implanted Skye with a tracker just awhile back.

Elizabeth walked up to Lucas' bedside, leaning in to examine him. She shone a light to his eyes, pulled at his eyelids to expose his eyes to the light better. "Can you hear me, Lucas?" she asked, sounding almost worried.

"You leave her be," he hissed back, eyes still cast on Sienna. His body felt incredibly worn, his veins burned as if full of poison, and there was a hammering headache in his head. He didn't trust the good doctor.

"I see," she answered, turning her attention to his hand. "I gave you a local anesthetic for the hand, but it looks bad. It would be easier to amputate and replace it," she then said to him, looking straight into his eyes.

"Over my dead body," he told her, giving no room for the thought. "What did you do to my people?" he then asked with contempt, unwilling to show her an ounce of fear.

"They are alright," Elizabeth assured. "We didn't harm anyone after they surrendered peacefully. But you were being fired at on the other side, weren't you?"

Elizabeth's eyes shifted to Carter's unconscious body. "He was like that when you came through, carrying that child in his arms, refusing to let go of her," she explained, a tinge of respect in her voice. "We had to operate to save his life. The bullet missed his vest by an inch. It nearly killed him."

Lucas looked past her, eyes set on Carter. "But he's going to make it?" he then asked, hostility replaced with uncertainty. It had been clear to him for awhile now that Carter cared deeply for Mira, but couldn't find the voice or words to tell her this. As a man of action, he had probably thought it better to show her rather than tell her.

"It's too early to say, but his chances are good," Elizabeth answered, unable to see the cruel terrorist Taylor had painted his son as in the man strapped to his bed. Lucas Taylor bore a striking resemblance to his father, but it wasn't just looks – it was also the way he concerned himself with the safety of those who followed him.

Elizabeth then spotted the man himself entering the infirmary. Taylor approached as a threatening figure, eyes locked with his son. She acted quickly, pulling a curtain between Lucas and the rest of the ward, and meeting Taylor halfway to stop his advance.

"Commander, a word," she said, finding difficulty in keeping her annoyance contained. Taylor tried to look past her and keep going, but she effectively stopped him when she stood in his path, claiming his attention forcefully.

"Doctor," Taylor said with a tensed voice.

"Let's talk in my office," she suggested.

"I need to have a word with my son first," he politely told her and tried to move past her, but she put herself in his path yet again.

"This can't wait," she claimed, staring him down until he gave in.

"Alright, make it quick."

Elizabeth guided them both to her office where it was quieter and safe from prying ears. She motioned him to sit, but Taylor didn't follow the suggestion; he leaned against the wall stiffly, crossing his arms over his chest. She closed the door behind them, and proceeded to sit on the edge of her desk.

"You wanted my medical expertise, so I'm offering it to you now," she started, recalling being awoken in the middle of the night to receive patients at the infirmary. At first panic had claimed her, rumors had spread about the Sixer army at their gates, and she had asked Josh to make sure Maddy and Zoe were safe. But it had become very clear that the only patients were Sixers and unknown civilians.

"This is not an army," she said, drawing a mocking laughter from the Commander.

"Yes, Dr. Shannon, I can see that all on my own," he remarked, unimpressed with her insight so far.

"Your son was stabbed through the hand with a sharp instrument. The wound looks about a week old. They did some surgery on it in 2149, salvaged what they could. The smart thing would've been to amputate the hand and replace it, yet he didn't do that," she explained, trying to make him understand what she was seeing. Taylor listened with great interest, yet he didn't grasp her intention at first.

"Why wouldn't he do it?" she asked him with a frown.

"I don't know," Taylor admitted.

"Because the artificial hand would've been difficult to maintain in the jungle. What if it broke, where would he get the parts to fix it? I believe that he intended to return here without the army all along," she theorized, noticing disbelief all over the Commander's face.

"You can't know that," Taylor countered her theory, disapproving her implication here.

"What about the other injuries this party sustained? They were all exhausted from running. All the shots fired at them came from behind. We pulled countless slugs from the Sixers' vests, and they were all in their backs, like someone was trying to stop them," Elizabeth tried next, putting her discoveries into words.

"These people didn't come here to invade, Commander. They were running for their lives," she then concluded.

Taylor let the words sink for a moment. He could recall the group at the portal, tired soldiers barely able to stand on their feet. They had rushed the ones that needed medical care to the infirmary and locked the rest in cells, but the civilians they had locked in house arrest, providing them with the former Sixer houses that stood abandoned even after all this time. Taylor had been waiting for the second wave, but the portal had remained shut; nothing had emerged from the future.

"I hear Skye has been begging you to give a chance to diplomacy," Elizabeth then said.

Taylor rolled his eyes. Where these rumors originate from? How was everyone always so clear on what happened behind closed doors? "I cannot trust her judgment at this time," Taylor settled to comment.

"I also hear she was injured when you brought her here. Can I finally examine her and make sure she's alright?" she requested next, expressing worry over the fate of the young woman, who had betrayed them all.

He'd moved her out of the isolation room and back into her cell shortly after they had brought the Sixers to the colony. He'd then filled the isolation room with the Sixers that were in best physical shape and started questioning them. It hadn't heeded any real results yet. Taylor knew Lucas was the one who would give him answers though.

"Fine," he agreed, seeing no harm in Elizabeth seeing Skye. "She might have a broken finger. There's a splint in her hand," he informed her, watched as Elizabeth embraced the piece of info with decisiveness.

He then lowered his arms and begun making his way out of her office. She stopped him again, calling out, "Sir?"

Elizabeth paused for a second, seeking the right words. "Nothing I've seen today suggests that your son had any intention of harming us," she concluded.

Taylor didn't respond, just stepped outside as if he hadn't even heard her words. She was certain he'd heard them though, just didn't know what to make of it yet. Elizabeth followed him outside shortly, gathering supplies in her kit as she set out to see Skye now that she finally could.

Taylor waited for Elizabeth to make her exit, before he motioned for the soldiers to approach. "Did you check his medical condition?" he asked them.

"Just some bruising from the sonic blast, sir. No irreparable damage. He's in fine physical condition," one of them answered, handing the report over to Taylor.

"Is he restrained?" he asked next, almost managing to sound uninterested in the topic, just almost.

"Yes sir," the response came quickly.

"Fine then, move him away from the rest of them. I'll begin the interrogation shortly," Taylor instructed.

The two soldiers saluted him and set off to fulfill their orders, but Taylor was left in the middle of the room, watching the Sixers bound to their beds. These filthy, tired and bruised creatures looked half-dead, and his son was no exception. According to Elizabeth they had been escorting the civilians to safety at the expense of their own lives. He didn't take Sixers for the sacrificing type; in fact, most of them were mercenaries in the first place: nameless, expendable people.

None of this made sense to him.

* * *

Lucas heard the approach of the combat boots from a distance. They pulled the curtain aside, serious faces scanned him for threats, and one of the soldiers pushed a wheelchair into view. "Lucas Taylor," one of them called. "We're bringing you in for questioning."

He didn't object, just nodded lazily, surrendering his body. He was useless whilst bound to a bed, but this gave him a chance, an opportunity to exploit. Lucas watched intently as they opened the restraints on his legs. He stared down the barrel of a gun by the time they started opening the handcuffs. And then he was finally allowed to sit up. His head wailed in response, dull pain reminding him of the sonic blast he'd been greeted with upon his return here.

One of the soldiers helped him into the wheelchair, pulled the IVs from him, shut off the computers. Lucas gave a lingering gaze to Carter; made sure his chest still rose and fell. Confident with these vital signs he let the soldiers transport him into the morning sun outside, towards the prison area further away.

He was still wearing his party outfit, this extravagantly expensive rented suit that was now smeared for good with dirt, sweat and blood. His tie was nowhere to be found, and he'd lost the glove as well, but a piece of dignity remained in the way he held himself. Of course he knew where he was going; face to face with his father, a final showdown with the old man basking in his failure. He didn't mind.

No one had perished this time, he'd been able to keep his word to her, and that was what mattered. Not his feud with his unrelenting devil of a father, not his failure to destroy this monument of his father's dreams – just the fact that he could face everyone with an elated heart.

They wheeled him into a building and down the long corridors inside. Guns were pointed at him at all times. At the end of the road a cell waited, and he was let in quietly. The soldier who'd been pushing him stepped out of his shadow and put the brakes on the wheelchair to keep it still, before he exited the room with the rest of them.

Lucas crossed his hands over his lap patiently. He could feel strength returning to his legs, but he bid his time, chose to play weak. He knew what this was about now, and saw his chance suddenly. He wasn't a good man by any measure, so one more sin shouldn't dip the balance too much, he thought to himself as he listened to his father entering the room.

"I'm surprised you didn't order them to fire at will," Lucas remarked, his back turned to his father.

"There were children, women. I figured you might resort to using them as human shields," Taylor responded with equal disrespect.

His expression faltered though, didn't match his cruel words. He could see the scar on Lucas' hand ( _just like Skye had told him_ ) as it rested on arm of the wheelchair. Lucas appeared listless, so defeated. It was difficult to see him that way.

"Didn't have any trouble shooting me though," Lucas mused cynically.

"Why don't we skip this beat, son? Let's just be honest," Taylor suggested, having grown tired of this constant struggle.

Lucas chuckled back. "You're incapable of looking me in the eye, old man. It's you who can't be honest," he nearly spat the words from his mouth. Contempt was such poison. "So don't blame me for being incapable of believing a word you say."

Taylor approached now with hands behind his back, supporting a straight posture as he walked. "I've given no reason for this mistrust," he said, truly believing his words. In his mind, Lucas had drifted from him before he'd even known what had happened. He hadn't believed he could ever lose his son, until that night in the jungle when Lucas had pointed a gun at him, finally exposing his true feelings.

"Of course you didn't," Lucas mocked. "You're a hero, father. Lying is beneath you."

Taylor reached his side, witnessed the true extent of Lucas' weariness. And while Lucas held onto his vicious anger with every fiber of his being, it was less intense than before. Something had peeled that hatred from him, transformed it. It no longer burned in every word, every struggling breath.

"You lied to _me_ Lucas," Taylor reminded him with sadness, recalling the shock of discovering Lucas' work, his betrayal.

"That makes us even, doesn't it?" Lucas simply stated.

"Even for what?" Taylor questioned.

"Coup de grace, father," Lucas responded in an instant. He turned to look at his father now, still sitting as he looked up at the figure he'd once worshipped in his adolescence. "I saw you that day. I saw you with the smoking gun," his voice faltered, the horrible truth shook his façade.

"And you lied to me about it. You lied, and lied, and lied until you had me suspecting my own sanity!" Lucas roared.

It was evident that the accusation was correct; Taylor embraced it mutely, stood bare beneath Lucas' piercing gaze.

"No child should go through that," Taylor finally spoke, expressing his regret, his utmost guilt.

"Well, _I did_ ," Lucas responded aggressively.

For the first time in ten years, Taylor allowed himself to return into that moment, that sweltering hot day where his world had come to an end. He could see the rebels organizing the civilians into a row, keeping him and a few other high-ranking officials on their knees in the sidelines. All he could do was watch in horror as they forced both Lucas and Ayani on their knees. One of the rebels hit Lucas in the face with his gun for staring back too defiantly.

"I chose you for love, son," Taylor confessed, recalling Skye's words.

He frowned as he went further into the memory, saw Lucas screaming as they dragged him off with the rest of the chosen, and left him to watch as they abused his wife. Every second of her torture was vivid in his memory, a stain that never washed away.

"And I shot her down for love."

When given the choice to continue watching them hurt her or ending it, he remembered wanting to die. Her bruised and broken body lying on the sand, barely recognizable as the woman he'd loved. The rebel leader holding his hand over Taylor's to ensure he didn't point the gun elsewhere. The recoil as he fired it and saw the bullet hit its target.

Lucas had turned his gaze. His eyes were red, and his heart was burning. He'd imagined this scene many times in his youth, seen his father beg for forgiveness. He'd snuck downstairs to see his father passed out from drinking, holding his gun on his lap, and wondered why he didn't have the courage to pull the trigger. But this time his anger couldn't withstand his father's presence – Not when he imagined Skye in his mother's place. The conflict tore at him, mocked him, and yet he couldn't deny that he would've ended her suffering as well, committed the final act of love.

He was supposed to be interrogating his son, but instead they were talking about events that were strangely tied to everything that still happened today. Taylor shook himself awake from this spell, this confusion he'd allowed Skye to cast on him.

"When is the army coming, son?" he asked, a threatening dimension sneaking into his voice.

Disillusioned, Lucas answered, "There's no army. We blew up Hope Plaza."

Taylor's eyes widened with disbelief. Was this another trick? Did Lucas expect him to believe such a blatant lie?

"I don't believe you."

The irony of his father's words didn't escape Lucas. Round and round they went in this mad carousel, a carnival of death.

"Skye told you she killed Curran, I take it?" Lucas asked without expecting an answer. "Well, Curran didn't just make his move. He was inspired, manipulated. Because an operative from the Company thought she was the reason I was compromised. They wanted her dead because of me."

Genuine hurt crept into his voice. "I couldn't live with that, the constant fear that I could lose her. You see, she means more to me than hurting you. So I went to them and got everyone their loved ones, and I ran back as fast as I could."

It was starting to make sense in a crazy way to Taylor. He watched his son's discomfort at telling this story. Suddenly he no longer knew if he should discard Lucas' words by default.

"And we blew up Hope Plaza to keep everyone safe," Lucas concluded.

The clues in this puzzle were supportive of Lucas: His hand, Elizabeth's theories, Skye's claims, and the civilians with them. He didn't think his son that good a liar.

"What do you want Lucas?" Taylor questioned: all ears with the answer.

Lucas took a moment to consider. Everyone safe, Skye smiling at him, plenty of days with her in Paradise (just like their first meeting), Mira reunited with her daughter, Carter pulling through so he could finally tell her what he felt, and Skye being able to see her mother – yes, that was all he wanted. Hurting his father wasn't even in the top ten. It was a miserable remnant of his old life, this wish.

But he didn't voice his thoughts; his dark eyes didn't betray anything. Taylor observed him, unable to decide, whether letting Lucas go was even an option at this point. Lucas was dangerous, directly involved with all the deaths and suffering they had been put through since the Sixers had broke free from the colony.

"Do you think you can even begin to live up to Skye's expectations?" he asked. His question snapped Lucas right out of his thoughts though. "She thinks so highly of you, son. Even as the portal opened, she begged me to save you."

Lucas bounced on his feet, catching his father off-guard, grabbing the collar of his shirt with rage in his eyes. Taylor responded to the aggression by grabbing Lucas' wrists and tearing his hands off. Their eyes battled for domination, their bodies remembered each punch exchanged in the past.

"Yes, she's here," Taylor confirmed Lucas' doubts, and was instantly punched into the gut by his son.

He retaliated by punching Lucas in the jaw. The younger man staggered backwards a bit, taken aback by the hit, but he launched himself at his father again shortly, pushing him at the wall with his body. He tried to hit, but was blocked.

"She came willingly!" Taylor claimed, yet the damage was done.

"I doubt you housed her in anywhere but the cellblock!" Lucas shouted, grabbing his father by the throat with his hands.

Taylor jabbed him to the gut twice before punching Lucas in the injured hand. Pain pulsated through Lucas, the nerves were aflame again, and his grip was lost. His father pushed him off, catching his breath.

"She came as a prisoner, Lucas," he said, like it explained everything.

"You're not the enemy to her! You never could be!" Lucas shouted back, pain on his face, and insult in his voice. "But she comes anyway, knowing _you'll just disappoint her_!"

At this point the room was flooded with soldiers. Two of them quickly restrained Lucas' hands behind his back, effectively ending the fight between father and son. Taylor stared at Lucas intently, and his stare was met with equal intensity. It was like Lucas was telling him not to disappoint Skye. That he'd already lost one child.

Did Lucas really desire him to remain in Skye's life? Did he want Taylor to reconcile with the girl? For the first time Taylor saw a hint of selflessness in Lucas that didn't scream falsehood to him. It served no good to Lucas to mend his and Skye's relationship, not when he himself hated his father so. But nevertheless he desired this for the both of them, knowing it was impossible for him and his father now.

"Let him go," Taylor instructed, never taking his eyes from Lucas.

Lucas didn't struggle as they released him, or launch himself at his father again. An understanding bloomed between them.

"You asked me what I want," Lucas said. "I want to see her."

A sincere request, Taylor realized. If he wanted to, he could end it all now: Tear them apart for good, destroy the Sixers, and identify his enemies – anything he wanted.

"You won, old man," Lucas continued. "Just let me see her."

TBC


	28. A Burning Heart

Mira rode with the others. She sat in the passenger seat with her gaze pointed at the dry land and the dust their approach sent flying across it. You could see their coming from miles away on the plain fields that surrounded Terra Nova, but for once it did not bother her. She wanted to announce her arrival loud and clear. She had learned subtlety, trained in choosing her words, muffling her cries. Not today. Today she wouldn't play pliant any longer.

It was afternoon by the time they closed in on their destination. The sun scorched everything in its path, and her body surrendered to its might, leaving her exhausted and covered in sweat. By now she functioned on determination alone. After a half-slept night, her mood was anything but rational, and her ears were still bothered by the sound of waves, this raging sea that had been Morris' final gift to her.

The others carried weapons, surveyed their surroundings with unease. All she had was her knife; all she searched for were the men responsible. If Carter was dead, there would no negotiation, no parley to save them. She would cross the line with no one to hold her back this time, no one to tell her to stop in time.

They stopped at a distance from the colony, formed a row of vehicles that stood out like sore thumb on the long empty plains. Mira climbed out of her rover and walked away from the rest towards the gates alone. She saw the guns in the towers, the alerted guards that tried to evaluate her intentions, and carried on in spite of them. When they began to yell ultimatums at her from their towers, she stopped. Slowly, she lifted her arms up to show she was unarmed.

"Taylor!" she yelled from the bottom of her lungs, urging him to come outside, come face her.

"Taylor, you come outside!" she dared him, knowing the sly old fox was too curious to kill her, too curious to notice her despair. That's what she would use against him; it was the only way she could win anymore.

With her hands still raised she stopped her approach, eyes cast on the front gate of the settlement. She wasn't the soft woman who'd once walked through those gates with a smile; Taylor had forced her out, carved her into something else. Life had complicated things, turned simple plans into a spiral of bad luck and suffering, a mission into an eking life out there.

This was the end of the road, the turning point where she realized she had strived for something better because of _him_ all along.

As the dust landed by their rovers and the afternoon sun burned her skin relentlessly, she continued to call for Nathaniel Taylor. The No-Man's-Land between Terra Nova's gate and their troops was the loneliest place in the world, a wasteland of dreams. The wait was his silent taunt to her, a stigma of unimportance, but she withstood it. Mira knew the road to awe was paved with suffering.

But in the end, Taylor arrived to prove her patience was rewarded. He appeared into view suddenly, alone like Mira, and walked onwards slowly to greet her, making no audible sound yet. He too had known little rest in this past week, sleeping with one eye open, dreading for an attack. A week should've been nothing compared to the five long years he had waited for this day, and still knowing it was coming had paralyzed him.

Mira was a vision of disorder before his eyes. He frowned upon seeing this once proud and unreadable woman so visibly shaken, but he continued onwards to meet her, knowing backing out was no longer an option. Mira always came for her people, always suggested a trade. This time it didn't look as if she had anything to trade with. It only piqued his interest further.

As he came closer, Mira recognized the dark rings around his eyes, smelled the sweat from his clothes. He'd suffered a long night catching the people she loved, caging them and interrogating them. Her heart knew no sympathy for him at this time.

"Mira," Taylor finally spoke, reaching the speaking distance. He stopped in her presence, scorched by the violent sun.

"Three years, Taylor," she said harshly, her tone insinuating how she was done with playing games. "Three years you've carried a bullet _for me_."

"No one was harmed, Mira. We captured your team. The ones that needed medical attention have received it," Taylor hurried to assure her, realizing the implication of her words. He didn't desire hostility at this time, not when he doubted the need to continue battling.

For a second there it looked as if though she felt relief, let the aggression slip away. She almost smiled; her shoulders relaxed, and she even took a step closer with a hopeful stare. He let his guard down, unable to believe that this worn woman would act against him now. Both Lucas and Skye had been telling him the fighting was over, and Mira seemed ready to lay down her arms and request mercy as they had. Taylor realized he would gladly embrace her surrender.

Yet Mira was swift with making a u-turn; she charged at him, hitting his face with her own to blind him. Taylor was flooded with the pain and shock from the sudden headbutt. He staggered backwards without a clear view, and felt her grab him by his shoulders. Her grip was strong, piercing. She then flipped him around violently and pushed a blade over his throat.

Mira pressed her lips to his ear, hissing, "If you wanted me, you should've shot _me_ , Taylor." She held him still, locked one of his arms behind his back and stood close enough to him to press against his back. Taylor blinked, trying to regain his eyesight.

How had this happened? How had she just gotten the jump on him so easily? He realized his mind was distraught, filled with the words of his children who had hoped to lead him astray. They had been eager to convince him the Sixers were no longer a threat, and while he had denied it, hadn't his heart wanted to believe it? Didn't he desire a happy ending as well? The blade that hovered over his throat was direct proof how foolish such hopes were.

A warrior, a vengeful Fury: those were the images he got from her. Nothing about her spoke of the same peace Lucas and Skye had talked about. This was personal for Mira now, this was revenge.

"You'd better hope Carter makes it," she whispered to him, pushing him onwards as she clarified the source of her anger. Mira pried his gun from its holster and tossed it on the ground.

"Will you kill me?" he asked her calmly. No answer would surprise him. Mira had indeed tried to harm him many times in the past, always failing. Now nothing stood in her way.

"No," she answered. "You're my shield. You're going to take me to Terra Nova. You're going to release them all."

He didn't protest against her logic for the plan was ludicrous. She would've had better luck in keeping him hostage since he'd fallen for her trap. But then he realized she didn't care too much for her wellbeing at this time, having approached him with such carelessness. He'd driven her to the edge.

Something clicked; if there was an army, wouldn't she wait for it? No, instead she came here, pressed a knife over his throat and asked him to walk them both inside enemy lines – for what? To see her second again: The man who had emerged from the portal with a gunshot wound?

"Move it," she breathed heavily into his ear, pushing him onwards. They began to move in unison, the knife still hovering by his throat.

"It wasn't us who shot Carter, Mira," Taylor told her as they reached the gate and proceeded to enter the colony together. His soldiers waited inside, guns pointed at his aggressor.

"Hold your fire!" he instructed his soldiers. Mira hesitated, tensing at the sight of the enemy horde. She scanned her surrounding, realizing she stood little chance, but then she continued the charade anyway, alarming Taylor further.

She was alone, exposed, moving into the heart of enemy territory. Her plans had nothing to do with sense, and everything to do with need, he realized.

"Why don't I show you?" he suggested softly, turning towards the road to the infirmary.

Mira counted the soldiers, witnessed their eagerness to act and knew they could've shot her already. Taylor was keeping them from it, her exhausted mind knew as much. She could let them have their desire, die a martyr. She could harm this man, her true adversary, and know that at least something had gone _right_. Or she could believe him when he said it hadn't been them who'd hurt Carter. She could try and trust her enemy, and continue this strange act they had established in the span of the past three years.

She felt a pain in her chest as she realized there was only one option she could take. All other roads would leave Sienna alone, and she had already taken that road once in her life. Never again, she'd vowed. Would that promise become meaningless in the face of revenge?

"Let's go," she said, letting him lead the way. If Carter had died for her, at least she would embrace her daughter again and appreciate his sacrifice.

Somehow the dynamic between them changed with those simple words. Taylor seemed calmer, more focused as she decided to let him lead her. The row of soldiers moved aside to make way for them.

Their advance still looked crazy to the outsiders. Mira and Taylor walked onwards in unison, and the soldiers followed behind them, keeping her in their sights. But Taylor didn't make a move to fight or turn the tables. He was exhausted after a long night and the encounter with his son. Mira wasn't acting herself – not like fierce and intelligent creature he knew to be. She was blinded by grief, and yet it was the very thing that tugged at his heartstrings, spoke to him. He tolerated her behavior because he was curious.

These mercenaries he'd taken for greedy, guiltless soldiers were humane. They bled, they cared. They acted against their sense when driven asunder. He no longer needed to be made of stone to win. He needed to know clemency.

"Skye told me you were injured," Taylor said conversationally, feeling the way Mira's arms shook. "It was your hearing, wasn't it?" he then continued, telling her of his earlier observation.

She didn't react to noise as she should've, didn't pick up things. Mira seemed to be just a little detached, tense and expecting. She tried to overcompensate with her other senses, looking too far to her sides.

"I'm alive yet," Mira responded, feeling pride for the fact.

Their spectators didn't understand this play, but they did. They had their parts memorized from countless other times they had embraced these roles. Closeness was only allowed when weapons were involved. Truths were only exchanged when one had the upper hand. Mira recalled their previous encounter in the jungle: his imprisonment, her imprisonment, how everything had ended in an unlikely co-operation.

Perhaps that was why he'd realized she didn't truly mean to hurt him as long as he wasn't the one who had harmed her loved ones. Taylor walked onwards, knowing that this was the only way he could let her in without taking her a prisoner. He was saving her honor, the shreds that were left of it. Theirs had always been a relationship based on mutual respect. Even at its worst, they had always acknowledged the skill of their adversary, held a silent admiration, an understanding of the rules.

Their war was ending now. This was her last stand. And yet Taylor found no desire to strike her down; No desire to justify her anger. Mira solidified the doubts in his mind, gave tangible form to the truths he already knew, but had wanted to dismiss.

Skye had begged him, Lucas had mocked him, Elizabeth had told him, and now Mira threatened him. They all had the same message for him. It was over.

People stared at their advance with worry, shock. He had already relaxed, looked almost comfortable as they entered the infirmary. Elizabeth had moved Carter to a private room just an hour back, seeing as his recovery required uninterrupted rest. He knew where this was and led Mira there willingly.

The soldiers still followed, understanding little of what they witnessed, yet mesmerized by the sight of it as Taylor and Mira stopped at the door. Following an unspoken thought, her hand moved from his throat and she released him. All happened so peacefully, no words were exchanged as Taylor moved away from her and then turned to face her again. He saw her hesitate, put the knife on her belt and just stand there. No one moved in to rescue him and detain her, for all eyes were focused on what happened next between them; the air was ripe with anticipation.

How strange that it ended like this; not in carnage as Mira had often thought. She had expected a battlefield, going down in the blaze of glory. Instead he was standing by her side, urging her to step across the threshold, encouraging her. Having walked all this way here, the fear was worse than ever.

It was Taylor who opened the door eventually, staying behind as Mira stepped inside finally. He closed the door behind her, instantly faced with Washington, who stared at him like he had gone mad.

"Sir?" she asked, glancing at the room he'd just allowed Mira to enter upon threatening his life. Her eyes were wide with confusion.

"Go tell the rest they're free to come and get their families as long as they come unarmed," Taylor answered gently, eyes lingering at the surface of the door.

"It's over Wash," he then sighed, surrendering to the truth finally.

She didn't know how to respond, or how he knew this. Washington waved the men down, calling to the guards at the gate, and the ones holding the civilians under house arrest. She did it all without second guessing, for she knew his expression, that look of inner peace she had rarely seen.

* * *

Mira walked towards the bed as silently as she could. It was nice here, a safe corner of quiet contemplation. But she hadn't expected to find Sienna by his bed; her small figure slumped over the side of the bed, head resting near him. Her small hand was over Carter's as if refusing to let him go. Had she seen everything? Had she clung onto him in fear, while he was just trying to get her home?

She reached the armchair by the bed; leaned in to brush the hair from Sienna's sleeping face. Her teeth pressed into her dry lips for a moment there, struggling with the decision to wake her. She decided against it. Instead Mira lifted her gently, pulling her into her arms and away from Carter's side. Sienna didn't react much even as she was picked up, which was certainly for the better. Mira sat in the chair, settling them to a comfortable position the best she could.

Sienna turned a bit in her sleep, but exhaustion had claimed her. She rested her head over Mira's chest, inhaling that scent she knew subconsciously from her early childhood, and slumbered into deeper sleep. Mira continued to pet her hair, finding her voice to sing a lullaby to her for the first time in years.

" _Hush, little baby…,"_ she sang quietly, unwilling to wake her child. She glanced nervously at the door, wondering when she would be interrupted, when her time would run out.

" _Mommy's going to buy you a mockingbird…,"_ she continued, feeling her heart clench. But the prison guard never came to take her away, and after awhile Mira settled into this, allowed herself to believe in Taylor's good intentions and fairness.

All saturnine thoughts vanished from her. Winning or losing no longer mattered. She had been a petty creature to think they had. Nothing matched the love she had for her daughter, this utter devotion, and yet only one other could've brought loss deep enough to plunge her into despair.

Her eyes brushed over Carter who was still unconscious; He was attached to machines and tubes. The machine helped him breathe, helped him stay alive. It was something at least, she thought. She fixed her position on the chair, moved her free hand over Carter's, feeling his skin with her fingers ever so lightly, before weaving their fingers together.

She had all the time in the world now, nothing forced her to leave his side, so she would remain here until he woke up.

"You're going to wake up," she told him matter-of-factly.

* * *

He rushed down the corridor as soon as the door was opened for him. While he ran, his mind worked on what he'd heard. They were all free; his father was letting them go. Lucas was unable to feel gratitude or hatred, so that just left a strange numbness towards his father. Somehow Taylor had changed his mind. Why, how, when?

Steps further down the corridor drilled into his hearing, made him stop, listen. Seconds later she appeared into view, searching like he was, anxious to find him. He saw past the dirt on her face, the tenseness in her body and the general disorder that marked her. She looked the same with her bewildered gaze, her beauty highlighted by her apparent determination, yet something was different.

"Skye," he called to her with insecurity, getting her to turn to him. At first she looked at him with a frown, not having recognized the softness of his voice, but as the revelation unraveled relief spread across her being.

Skye closed the distance quickly as she set into motion, rather guided by her instinct than rational thought at this point. Her ordeal had left her cradled in uncertainty, holding onto dwindling sentiments about what had been important to her once and whether it ever could be again. After Taylor's rejection she had been certain that tragedy was unavoidable; that they simply lacked the tools to fix this mess they had made. But seeing Lucas here relatively unharmed, looking at her like he no longer knew what to do, proved her wrong.

She wrapped her arms around him upon reaching him and held onto him as tightly as possible. At first her hold was weak, but her strength returned in time as he held onto her as well, whispering relief, feeling so warm and good in her arms. Her eyes were closed, her face buried in his chest, and while all she wanted was to tell him everything, asked about everyone, all she could do was sob with relief and joy at first. The heavy cross she'd carried, the weight of the world beneath their feet, the weight of her own despicable actions, it finally fell from her grip that moment.

Lucas knew how she felt, how much they had each craved for this, a reunion that didn't force either one of them to live in exile. He brushed his fingers into her hair, raking through it to comfort her. His outburst of emotion wasn't as visible, but he did allow himself to feel everything instead of rejecting it. For a passing moment he was content and without fear.

Skye put some distance between them, drawing a shivering breath in attempt to hold back her emotions. She immediately felt him wipe away her hot tears with his thumbs, and looked up to see Lucas who was equally moved in his own minimalistic way. She'd learned to read into his expressions and gestures, the way he held his breath or avoided eye contact. This time Lucas was fully in the moment, his mind unoccupied by anything else.

Without a word she rose to her toes to kiss him, and he embraced her kiss, inviting her lips to open with his. His hands moved to her back, hers rested on his chest. He pressed into the kiss with urgency, as if worried this might end too soon. She no longer worried about that, and thus she released his lips with amusement and returned her heels to the ground as she retreated.

Lucas frowned with disappointment at her early retreat, and swooped her in his arms all over again, pulling her closer to kiss her. This time her saw her close her eyes and just enjoy the feeling of his warmth and hunger as he pecked her lips lightly, planting one small kiss after another on her. Yet his kisses became fewer and longer shortly, and even as he tried to express everything he felt through touch alone, words were needed. Lucas stopped to breathe after the last kiss seemed to last forever, and it burned the oxygen from his lungs, forcing them apart. He rested his forehead against hers for a short while, keeping his eyes closed as he relished the moment, before he opened his eyes and faced her again.

She looked back at him, a warm expression conveying her affection for him. Desire touched the bottom of her stomach, but she denied it, feeling concern for more pressing matters.

"What-"

""How-"

Each started to speak in unison, and was silenced at the same time when they realized neither could hear what the other had said. It was Skye who acted first when the silence threatened to stretch onwards.

"Is everyone alright?" she asked, feeling a stab of guilt for abandoning everyone in her quest to change Taylor's mind.

"We were showered with enemy fire. There were some injuries," Lucas began to describe. His demeanor changed noticeably as he paused before he told her about Carter. "…Carter was shot in the chaos. I don't know his condition."

Skye faced the information calmly, refusing to be alerted further. "Dr. Shannon will help him," she stated, finding almost crazy faith in her notion of Elizabeth's skills. "She has saved him before."

Lucas nodded encouragingly as he was unwilling to think about the alternative. "What about everyone else?" He asked unaware of the length of Skye's imprisonment. He rested his hand comfortably over her pelvis, offering her support just by being there.

"We lost Cross and Villiers. The damage from the gunfire was too great. And Mira was injured in the fight. The damage to her hearing probably isn't permanent, but I'm not a doctor, I don't have the experience or knowledge to make anything but guesses," she explained, sounding terribly conflicted. He could tell she blamed herself, couldn't accept that it was supposedly her fault they had lost their medic.

"Skye. You can't do miracles, and no one is asking you to," he comforted her, placing his hand beneath her chin. "We chose this path, all of us together. There was always the chance things could go wrong."

Something flickered in her eyes, her head snapped to her side and her expression shifted to alarm. "Lucas," she breathed and grasped his elbow sharply. "Did you find out who the infiltrators are?" she asked, remembering how they all still lurked in the long shadow Morris had cast.

Lucas snapped out of his calmness, his forehead became furrowed and the signs of uncertainty took over his being. "I never got the data… _Carter did_ ," he told her, realizing only now that danger was still present here.

Should the infiltrators learn of how they had blown the gate there was no telling how they would react. Horror scenarios flooded his mind, each becoming more and more gruesome. Suddenly he was angry again, angry at Carter for having kept this secret, angry at himself for being reduced to a bedridden cripple, angry at the Company for their seemingly endless distrust in their own employees. Frustration bled onto his expression, made him clench his teeth together as his hands fell from her being.

"Lucas!" she snarled at him, demanding his attention as she noticed him retreating back into the confinement of his mind. Skye looked headstrong at this time, her inner strength had returned.

"We need to act," she stated collectedly, sounding like she knew exactly what to do.

He knew what she meant; this was something that threatened both the Sixers and Terra Nova. It was one final test that could unite them all, and prove to all the Nay-Sayers that their intentions no longer involved harming Terra Nova or its citizens.

"You're right." His voice lacked his usual certainty. This was unusual ground to him, letting her take the lead. The consequences of her earlier choices were still fresh in both their minds, but he trusted her, and the last thing he wanted was for her to fear taking control because of the past. Skye wasn't a leader per se, but she did rise into the occasion when needed, and she had good instincts about people.

She glanced around them to make sure they hadn't been overheard. "Do you think they'll act once they learn about what you did?" she questioned him, focusing readily on the task at hand.

"Taylor announced he would free all prisoners, so the information is getting out as we speak. There will be confusion at first, but I fear they have strict instructions on what to do in every scenario," he explained ominously, letting his distaste for Morris' tactics show. Morris had been prepared to let them all burn if they were compromised – who was to say he hadn't instructed something similar here?

"It isn't in their best interest to establish peace between us and Terra Nova. I fear they will sabotage this peace," she lamented, feeling her anxiety take root inside her.

"The best way to do that is to kill my father," Lucas stated with exaggerated detachment. Skye flinched as he said this, instantly affected by the news. Hearing it nauseated her, yet she understood what he meant. It was just perfect; framing the Sixers as assassins and turning the Colony against them as revenge. It certainly sounded like something Morris could've come up with.

"There were over a hundred new pilgrims that arrived on the 11th, Lucas!" Skye snapped at him, pulling away to contain her urges to display the utter frustration she felt. This was hopeless.

"I can't lie to you, Bucket," he responded with defeat, "It is not like I haven't wanted this for years."

She knew it of course, but hearing it aloud was like another nail in the coffin. Was she truly alone in this? "No! We are not going sit by idle while they act," she objected vehemently, and strangely enough, he listened.

"He gave you a clean slate, Lucas. That is the only reason we're even having this conversation!" Her voice became stronger and clearer with the accusation, the pressure she applied to make him see.

Lucas responded cynically though, "You can't clean a slate, Skye. Not for good. You'll always see what was there before."

His words tasted bitter in her mouth. However, she didn't let herself lose hope so easily. A part of him resented the notion of being forgiven and forgiving others, but she knew he was better than that.

"In your own words, I betrayed you. How is my slate these days?"

Her words were chilling, but she no longer threaded on him; instead she implied with no hostility or judgment. She didn't voice the obvious; that she didn't want to choose between them again. Lucas quickly realized he couldn't ask her to either. If he couldn't forgive his father, there were always other reasons to save his life. Taylor had given them all their freedom, a chance to start anew. If he would pass away under these circumstances, all of that would be gone in the wind.

The irony of this moment was what eventually made Lucas' coldness melt into amusement. He had come to Terra Nova five years ago to disgrace his father and destroy his legacy, but instead he was saving him. What a strange twist of fate.

Skye observed him as he considered her words, and saw the precise moment where his mind changed. She knew it wouldn't be an act of love, not for her or Taylor, but the only rational choice available. Still she would take it, knowing that if Lucas had been unable to see reason in this situation she would've had to abandon all of hope of being with him. Choosing between his misplaced anger and the affection he had gained for her and the others really showed them both what he was made of deep down.

Skye extended her hand for Lucas and watched him take it. She squeezed it tightly for a moment, feeling his steady pulse through the veins of his hand, until she let go. "They must've rushed him into surgery when you arrived?" she asked tentatively, gaining her response in a nod.

"We're going to have to wake up Carter then," she concluded.

TBC


	29. Briar Rose

She gripped his hand tight as they hurried onwards through the maze of corridors that led to the brig. Worry was a constant in her life now; it was a dreaded guest in no hurry to leave, and she was only now starting to get used to its presence. She had had to face so many things alone in these weeks, but these events had left her hardened, her resolve strengthened. It was this strength that shone through in her every action. She'd tackled Lucas' hurt, offering him an alternative, and seeing the results of that work was what made her confident now. Together they were more than the simple sum of parts, pieces of incomplete people.

He pushed the door open for them and they were greeted by a hot swirl of air. Skye stopped without fully realizing she'd done so, as they were suddenly the target of countless curious eyes. People had gathered outside, frozen as they watched the scene that unraveled before them. The soldiers were giving room from the masses to the Sixers that walked freely in the streets of Terra Nova. Lucas narrowed his eyes, catching other familiar faces in the midst of their reunions. The Sixers didn't seem concerned with the Terra Novans, or their lack of understanding. They simply focused on the people they were here for, helping the team back on their feet and towards the gates.

Eyes were upon Lucas and Skye as well; blame marked those gazes with unspoken accusation. Yet Skye only held onto his hand tighter and faced the situation bravely. She was the one who pulled him back into motion, who stood with her head held high, even as former friends and acquaintances struggled to conceive her role in all of this. They walked through the path secured by the soldiers, keeping distance from the crowd, minds set on their goal in spite of this distraction.

Everything seemed different in the light of day. Their feud seemed so small and inconsequential, even as they were stared at with mouths ajar. Lucas kept expecting riots, irrationals bursts of aggression, insults, and yet none of those things came. They walked in peace through the path that was laid out for them, and even as he knew this was not a hero's victory parade, he couldn't help feeling like this in itself was an achievement for them.

Skye opened the door to the infirmary, urging him to enter after her. The tugging awoke Lucas who hadn't realized he'd stared right back at the crowd observing him, piqued by their quiet… could it really be disgruntled acceptance?

Reality came crashing as they entered the infirmary, where Elizabeth Shannon was trying to hold down one of their companions with the help of the restraints and a few soldiers. Lucas let go of Skye's hand and walked into the situation, grabbing hold of patient's, Ludmila's, hand. He claimed her eyes with his, calming her instantly as he gripped her hand. She stopped fighting, bewildered by his presence.

"She cannot leave yet," Elizabeth hurried to explain, her voice saturated by genuine care. "I need her to stay in for observation, but she isn't listening to us."

Lucas' expression softened. "Did you hear that?" he asked his companion, gaining an insightful nod as response from her. "You get better first."

"They are letting everyone go, Ludmila," Skye said, appearing into her field of vision unexpectedly.

"Everyone that's _not in the infirmary_ ," Elizabeth pointed out, underlining her last words. "From what I understand, you've been through quite an ordeal. It's my duty as a doctor to make sure you're alright first."

Ludmila glanced from Skye to Lucas, as if questioning Elizabeth's words. Her face was covered in sweat; it glued her long hair to her face, made her eyeliner stain beneath her eyes. She looked delirious, uncertain, and a little paranoid. But she remained still, waiting for someone to tell it was alright.

"You can trust her," Skye said with a frown.

Lucas felt the grip on his hand falter after that, and then watched as Ludmila withdrew her hand from his hold. She laid her head on the pillow again, looking at Elizabeth at a distance, but no longer fighting back when Elizabeth withdrew a syringe and moved in to take blood. Lucas gave her a marking look before he and Skye continued onwards.

Carter wasn't where Lucas had left him. At first it felt a little unnerving, but then one of the nurses informed them he had a private room for recovery. They followed her instructions down the hallway, both anticipating something, anything, out of the ordinary. Yet they remained engulfed in this serenity, this calmness that everyone else around them projected, unaware of the present danger. Skye glanced around them timidly, looking for shadows, signs of unusual behavior.

Lucas stopped them at the correct door, checking its number twice before he opened it and they let themselves in. He froze at the threshold though, eyes caught with Taylor's gentle figure sitting near Mira, talking to her in hushed tones. Skye pushed him onwards a bit to close the door behind them, but Lucas remained caught. The sight was so unexpected, seeing Mira and Taylor act so freely, as if they were comfortable around one another.

Taylor moved his gaze to his son after awhile, acknowledging their presence. Mira didn't move or react visibly; her attention was still pointed at Carter and the sleeping child in her arms.

"Lucas," he greeted his son softly, moving his attention to Skye next. "Skye."

Mira stirred a bit, as if realizing only now they were no longer alone. She didn't turn to look though, just shifted a bit. "I'm glad that you're both alright," she said a moment later, sounding altogether moony. Skye suspected it was due to Carter's current condition, and the way Mira stared right at him as she spoke somewhat confirmed her suspicions.

"Alas we can't stop yet," Skye said, moving closer to the others and away from Lucas, who preferred the distance from his father.

"Commander," she started hesitantly, almost testing the waters before she dared to finish, "You're not safe."

"I'm listening," Taylor responded kindly, pointing Skye to a third chair near-by. He didn't extend the courtesy to his son, knowing the issues between still prevented such gestures. Lucas was easily flammable, and he didn't wish to light the match unknowingly.

"That man who came to us – Morris – he has spies in Terra Nova. Lucas and I believe they will not let us reach a peaceful solution once they realize we're no longer loyal to their employer," Skye explained, her cheeks flushed in excitement and partial fear as well. She stressed, knowing that bridging things – the people in this room – together still wasn't an easy task.

Taylor quirked a brow at Skye's words, looking straight at Lucas at this point, "Is that so?" he asked, sounding less than convinced. Lucas was leaning against the wall, his eyes cast to the floor, even as he knew his father was watching. Everything about this whole situation was absurd to him.

"Carter found out the identities of these people, but he's still unconscious. I… _We_ fear that they will try and hurt you for being so lenient with us. All these gestures will mean nothing if you're assassinated by _a Sixer_ as consequence," Skye continued to tell him about the pressing fears that consumed her thoughts. Words wanted to come out her mouth jumbled and unrecognizable, but somehow she managed to express herself with perfect clarity instead, taming her own insecurities.

"I told you to watch out for him," Lucas said, joining the conversation out of the blue. His words were meant as daggers towards his father for failing him. Lucas had given it some thought by now; how many things would've been avoided had Taylor actually done his job and screened everyone that came through that portal as instructed. Morris would've been contained by now. Just thinking this made him feel so mad, so powerless.

Skye watched their interaction with wide eyes, unwilling to step in the middle of it. The tension between father and son was at high levels again, palpable for the rest of them as well.

"I didn't take your warning seriously enough, son," Taylor answered, admitting his fault.

"Yes, you never did take me seriously," Lucas admitted, sounding downright poisonous.

"Don't you think none of this would've happened if you'd just shot me down _that night_?" He proceeded to hiss, clearly holding a grudge against his father for the love he still carried.

Why? Skye couldn't understand how Lucas thought gunning him down would've been the solution, or how he thought his father could've ever committed such an act, no matter what the consequences! She remained sidelined however, believing that these things needed to be said and heard, even as they wounded both parties in the process.

But Taylor was unmoved by the insult Lucas had thrown at him. "The truth is son: once I realized you'd told me the truth, I made damn sure we weeded out the rest of them," he revealed, watching with curiosity as Lucas' face fell and his hostility turned into shock. Skye was also staring at him, as if unable to grasp the revelation that had just been presented to them.

"After Skye's little adventure to the Eye, we tightened the security. When they searched the memory banks for your calculations, we caught them," Taylor continued, crossing his arms across his chest as he leaned back in his chair. There was a certain air of pride and competence to him at this moment, a reminder of how safe and trustworthy he'd once felt to both Skye and Lucas.

"There were five of them total. They also told me all about this Morris and his mission."

"You mean?" Skye breathed in amazement, letting the joy of her realization spread across her body.

"There's no one left to threaten Terra Nova now," Taylor confessed, keeping his eyes on Lucas. They exchanged knowing looks, unspoken thoughts. There was no one left to threaten Terra Nova unless Lucas would make it his task again. Taylor was quietly asking his son not to indulge the destructive impulses that remained compulsively ingrained to his personality.

"You need to dispose of them," Lucas said a second later, making Skye jump in her seat. "You can't make another mistake. This time you need to handle the threat for good."

Taylor seemed a bit uncomfortable with the idea, although he knew it was true. His posture gained a dimension of unease, anxiety.

At this point though, Mira joined in the conversation. "Let fate decide," she said coldly. "There is another rift in the Badlands. I say we make them choose."

Mira's suggestion wasn't any less gruesome, but at least it was better than plain execution or letting them run wild in the jungle. Lucas had suggested Taylor lacked what it took to protect Terra Nova, and he was clearly testing his father's conviction. Mira's suggestion made sense though; Skye could see how Taylor considered it and accepted it.

"With the bridge blown, we can't afford to take any chances," Taylor said. "You're right in this."

A small smirk played over Lucas' lips, never quite maturing into a genuine smile. Despite everything that went on between them, a little boy remained inside Lucas, yearning for the acceptance of a distant father. Recognition, even in such a small issue, was something he craved for. Taylor just hadn't really seen this before; Lucas had been set on his ways to extract revenge to pay attention to the times when his father had actually seen him for what he was and appreciated the sight.

Mira held Sienna tightly in her arms, placing a soft kiss atop her head as she glanced at Taylor from her eye corner. She hadn't expected this to be honest; the three years she'd spent in exile, serving Lucas the best she could to repay her debt, she hadn't thought it possible for father and son to see eye-to-eye on anything. And it hadn't been just Lucas who had mellowed, no; his father had equally opened his eyes to really look at his son.

"We were just talking before you arrived," Mira began her sentence a bit quizzically, "about the future I mean."

She had everyone's attention now and held it for a moment, expecting Lucas to deny her right to make deals or even converse with his father, yet Lucas remained unreadable and silent. Mira held onto this moment hesitantly, realizing only now that the debt was finally paid. They were no longer servant and master, dancing endlessly to a destructive tune of madness together; instead they were equals.

"It is utopian to expect us to live in Terra Nova. There is too much history and bloodshed between us," she then explained, realizing that the others agreed with her, even Skye, who was the girl lost between two homes.

"But what we did, it puts our ledger ahead a bit. We're no longer in the red, nor are we in the white. It suits me fine. I have asked Taylor if we can co-exist. He believes we can," Mira continued, struggling with words mid-speech, as if trying her best not to insult anyone.

"We have agreed that the Sixers can continue living on their own, undisturbed," Taylor offered assistance. "A truce between us could become peace eventually."

Skye looked nervous now. Her knees were pressed together and she leaned closer to hear what Taylor had to say. It was only when she felt Lucas' hand land on her shoulder comfortingly that she relaxed visibly. Lucas stood next to her, not knowing what to feel about this news.

"We would trade, have council together, behave like good neighbors," Mira listed, "and most importantly, we wouldn't restrict movement between the two camps."

Taylor was now looking straight at Skye. "You could still live here, or visit your mother anytime you wanted," he clarified, the underlying affection in his voice sparking hope in her.

"All is forgiven?" Lucas asked brashly, leaving no room for misunderstandings; He wasn't convinced, but he did not outright condemn the idea. At least that was something.

"Forgiveness is something we can all work on," Taylor paused for a bit, "-With time."

It was more than she could've hoped for just weeks ago. It was more than she had even dared to dream of when she'd met Lucas for the first time.

"It won't be easy," Mira warned them. "The scars will outlast memory, feuds will erupt easily."

Skye felt Lucas' hand pull away, and then she saw him move past her. He stopped right in front of his father, his tall figure seething with anger. His self-control held the reins though; he acted like a better man and extended his hand to his father.

Taylor rose from his seat slowly, face concurred by disbelief. He extended his own hand towards Lucas with uncertainty, almost expecting his son to rush off any minute now and end the cruel joke. Instead Lucas took the hand with a sigh, shook it while staring angrily into his father's eyes, and held it for an extended moment.

He wasn't a man of his word, not the old Lucas who'd betrayed, lied and done almost anything to reach his goals. He'd wanted to be a better man, a loyal man, so why had the only way to achieve that been the betrayal of an alliance? So no, he didn't expect his word to carry much for his father, for the great unsullied Nathaniel Taylor, but he would keep his word anyway. He'd keep the Sixers safe, help them build a life here, and he'd be damned before he would let Carter die in that bed.

Taylor read into Lucas' gaze, that determination he saw burning in it. Lucas as whole was largely unrecognizable to him, yet the little things remained: tells and details. His vision was unclouded, and he believed his son.

As they parted ways, Skye rose to tie her arms around Lucas. She could feel the strain this reunion had put him under, the ways it had tested his resolve, and she was proud of him. For a moment she just held him tight, expressing wordlessly how grateful she was. He'd kept his promise to make things right, and this was more than enough for her.

"You two should get back," Mira suggested calmly, gaining their attention. Taylor frowned with surprise.

"Make sure everyone is alright, tell them what we have agreed," Mira explained, staring at Carter's unconscious body on the bed. "They'll need someone now. The floods are coming, people are scattered and we have new pilgrims."

Lucas glanced at Skye warily. He expected her to say no, to ask for her mother and be selfish for once. Instead Skye looked back at Mira intently. "You want to stay here with Carter, don't you?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"This is my place," Mira responded with warmth, absolute certainty. She didn't need to voice anything else. She'd be here for Carter, help him back on his feet or stay by him if the end came.

Skye turned to Taylor now with similar confidence, cool acceptance of her place in this world. "I'm needed elsewhere, but in time, I would like to see my mother," she told him.

He took her announcement calmly, accepting it now as he recognized the change in her. "She'll be in good hands, Skye," he promised.

Skye surprised him though by stepping away from Lucas and then closing in on him to embrace him. Taylor felt almost powerless for a moment, caught in this unexpected situation, in her sincere gesture of affection. He tied his arms around her as well after a moment's hesitation, remembering Lucas' earlier words.

"You were always like a father to me," Skye whispered her confession, her voice betraying the pain she had gone through for lying to him, for having broken his trust. Her honesty pierced his armor, made him ignore all the hurt and pain she'd caused and just tell her, "You're my daughter, nothing changes that."

Lucas shivered unwittingly as he witnessed this. Wasn't it the bond he'd always craved from his father, before his wishes had turned to blind hatred? Wasn't it what he had once had with his mother? He looked vulnerable for a moment there, a trace of what he truly felt was exposed, but by the time Skye and Taylor let go and stepped apart, he'd already disguised himself.

Lucas walked to Mira instead, leaning towards her over the chair. "We'll be back for you," he said softly. Mira didn't say anything to him; she didn't find words for this calm. Lucas wasn't offended though, he rather appreciated her silent acceptance. He did offer Carter one last look, before he extended his hand to Skye and pulled her towards the door in his wake.

It wasn't the end, this was not a goodbye, and yet Mira felt herself tear up a bit. She alone stayed behind, keeping watch. Taylor excused himself eventually, seeking rest, and probably receiving none after he was within his own again. They would bombard him with questions, try and understand his motives. And he would tell them about everything, but thankfully it was not Mira's job to worry.

She sank into her chair as time went by. She waited for a sign: movement, a sound, anything really. Carter remained still; she needed to blink her eyes to even see that his chest moved. Sense argued against this, but she remained by his side. She'd be here when he woke up.

* * *

Three days passed by in a haze. She felt in joy in seeing Sienna recognize her, sit on her lap mute with admiration. She felt frustration in trying to argue with Taylor's men, trying to keep her own comrades in line at the infirmary. She felt confined within these walls, and hated to be outside them. She felt gratitude when Elizabeth brought her own daughter Zoe to play with Sienna, thus giving Mira a long awaited breather, some time alone.

In the middle of this change, all these people, all these conversations and plans, she was caught in the eye of the hurricane, a target painted at her forehead. Mira didn't mind though, she endured.

Elizabeth had removed the breathing apparatus and explained to Mira that Carter should awaken any day now. He lay on the bed eyes closed, chest barely moving. And Mira had this image burned on her retinas, haunting her wherever she went. It no longer mattered if she was here or not; she was still seeing him.

In the end irritation won.

"What were you trying to prove, James?" she asked him, hands crossed over the side of the bed with her leaned against them. "That there was nothing you wouldn't do for me?"

She rolled her eyes at the thought, biting at her lip bitterly. "Did you think _I didn't know that_?" she asked next, her expression changing as a deep frown distorted her perfect skin.

"Of course I did," she then answered her own question with a sardonic voice. " _Of course_ I did."

No matter how subconscious it had been, she'd known. He'd been in her heart for a long time now, but she'd purposefully rejected every conscious thought about them as anything else but a leader and her second. And yet it had been plain for them all to see the affection, the threads that connected them. Telling him now wasn't any different from talking to the wind – just a foolish attempt at mending something she hadn't known she had broken.

She was cracking at the seams, having to look at him like this. "Would you believe me if I told you were agreeing? That we're getting along?" she questioned coyly. "That Lucas shook his father's hand and did not do so with the intention of betrayal?"

It certainly would've marked the end of the world once upon a time. Instead they were free from that fate now, content in just living. No more weighted down by the need to fight to the bitter end.

"She looks at me with so much admiration, so much love," she then confessed her weakness. "I hadn't forgotten what it feels like, because you would look at me like that sometimes."

Mira inched herself closer to him, sitting on the very edge of her chair, still waiting for him to show new vital signs. "Can you remember?" she asked, sounding hopeful suddenly. "Before you left. I could hear you say the words you never dared to say. I bared myself in front of you."

Still nothing.

"Sienna still believes in fairytales. She told me to kiss you awake," she smiled, rolling her eyes with amusement. "Wouldn't that be something: if you woke up with a kiss?"

Her hand reached for his face, her fingertips brushing against his pale cheek, and then landing over his lips. She focused on her fingertips, the almost unnoticeable feel of air brushing against them as he breathed. It was small but important. Everything paled in comparison to these moments where she could tell he was still with her.

Mira rose, fingers still hovering over his lips. She moved her unruly hair aside, leaned over his frame. Although hesitant at first, she closed in on his face before planting her lips over his. His lips were cold, unresponsive. Yet she gave more of herself in that kiss than she had intended, enjoying the feel of his lips and the taste of him. Mira withdrew casually after she was done, feeling that dark lump in her throat again, pressing at her windpipe. It wanted to choke her in tears, break her. It failed.

Mira retreated back to her seat, shaking her head at her own stupidity, whilst smiling at the absurdity of it all. She closed his hand in her grip, rubbing warmth into his icy cold skin.

"See now?" she said, sounding almost jesting. "This is what happens to optimists," she continued. "Once you have something worth losing, you lose it."

Her peaceful eyes were upon him again, as she searched for signs of awakening against her own sense. He remained still.

Always on the outside, looking inside – perhaps that was her fate? Mira recalled the times she'd been on the street, watching people clutch one another in the light, in safety, while she'd struggled to live through another night. She recalled the nights in the jungle with the cold digging through her clothes, her defenses, and thinking how much easier it would've been to embrace someone else in this fight for survival.

Without realizing she'd begun humming an old jazz tune. Her fingers were drumming along with it against his bed. The moment was eerie, slow to unravel. She didn't even notice at first that his fingers moved, struggling to join her in her lamenting. Mira was distracted, unable to see or hear.

His eyes opened to a sensitized reality; a dim light, a feeling of warmth, her lovely voice humming a familiar tune. His chest and rose as calmly as before, consciousness crept upon him. Carter just watched her, so unaware. Faint recollection of her voice guiding him to her was present, but he didn't need to remember her words to see the change in her. He could tell, could taste her all over his lips.

Carter managed to move his fingers more this time, and it disrupted her calm, stirred her awake. Mira's head snapped at him, at his hand that now rested over hers, and then at his eyes, his open eyes. She stared for a second; unsure whether she was dreaming or awake.

"James?"

He answered her with an enigmatic expression, a hint of slyness, satisfaction. Her surprise turned into joy.

"Did you kiss me?" he asked, sounding barely cohesive. His voice was still weak, everything about him a bit off.

"I did," she confessed. She saw him wet his lips with the edge of his tongue and then swallow sharply, as if he could tell just by doing that. Mira leaned closer to see him, to whisper so no one else would hear.

There was a gleam in her eyes when she spoke again. "Would you like me to do it again?" she suggested almost innocently.

He nodded lazily, caressing her hand with his fingers. "I didn't quite catch the first time," he told her, shaking his head lightly.

A smile played on his lips before she pressed her lips on his again, drowning them both in closeness. Carter forced his other hand to her back of her head, entangled his fingers in her hair to get a hold. She was so soft to kiss, nothing like his rough lips and jarred movement.

When their lips parted, she played her finger over his lips, before kissing him again. He pressed into her kiss the best he could, having imagined this moment so many times, before interrupting his fantasies and deeming just that – _mere fantasies_.

It felt right. Finally everything felt right.

He gripped her hand when she gave them room to breathe, to speak. There was adorn in her eyes, previously unseen by him; He quite appreciated this sight, although he hadn't expected it. She truly was more beautiful now that her defenses were down, and she allowed him to see past them.

"I'll take you home," she promised. Her implication was more than clear; she would take care of him now, not the other way around.

TBC


	30. Epilogue: Waves of a new day

 

The world spun the same, orchestrating the change of the seasons. The twelfth pilgrimage never came, which was probably what consolidated their story as truth for those who had still doubted. It was useless to scan the skies for danger when the Sixers ceased giving reasons to demonize them.

The flood washed away traces of the past, planted new seeds into the ground. Skye and Lucas had their work cut out for them, herding new and old allies, trying to keep the potential powder kegs from exploding. Mira retired from most of the decision making, choosing to focus on her daughter and the rehabilitation of Carter, which left a lot on Lucas' shoulders. No blame was cast though as Lucas understood her reasons. How could he blame someone for cherishing happiness when they finally had it?

Skye still worked as an intermediary between the two sides, frequenting at Terra Nova on behest of the Sixers. The visits became easier with time as people grew more understanding and begun to realize the benefits of the alliance that had formed. Skye helped others trade. The Sixers still mined minerals Terra Nova needed, as well as hunted and gathered and in general provided the colonists with a lot of useful items. Terra Nova in turn provided them with medical care and expertise in other areas. Elizabeth had made it her mission to train Skye, so she could function better in her role as a healer when the urgent nature of the damage didn't allow travel all the way back to Terra Nova.

Lucas was the one who made the spies choose between certain death and the 'blank' as he referred to the fracture in the Badlands. Each chose the fracture, so they were ceremoniously escorted there. Lucas made sure all walked through, and once they were gone, he pointed his attention to securing the Badlands' rift and the one near Terra Nova. In his mind, the terror of the future still existed. His nightmares painted images of night-time invasion, forcing him to work tirelessly on their safety. For a man who had once set his eyes on ruling the past, it was strange to realize he was ready to give his life in defending it.

Father and son still circled one another like prowling beasts, and they dueled with words on more than one occasion. Malice, however, was absent from their interaction. It was more like a well rehearsed play they carried on, not knowing how else to be around one another. Skye didn't meddle, for she felt time would heal old wounds. She could tell Taylor was proud of his son, of his accomplishments, even if he never worded those feelings, and that Lucas appreciated the effort his father put in mending things between the two. They shared too painful a history for things to have completely forgiven and forgotten past misgivings, but they were bonded by blood and memory nevertheless; it wasn't a bond that could be ignored.

Every now and then, Skye would still dream of the past. Night terrors haunted her for awhile, but Lucas pulled her through them, made her express the wordless anxiety that bled from her subconscious. He would listen, and most importantly he would forgive her despite her own claims of guilt. The ghastly grove where Hicks was buried became a place of contemplation for her, and Skye carved messages onto the tree whenever she needed assurance. She would also visit Curran's grave back in the Colony to bring him flowers and speak to him every now and then. In time the tragedy that had occurred became less painful, and she learned to accept her own choices and live with them.

Mira's hearing eventually returned and was welcomed by the laughter of children; she hadn't even realized how much she had missed it. Carter's recovery took more time. The bullet had left him near-paralyzed, but luck had been on his side, and with physical therapy he had regained his ability to walk. His afterlife, as he came to call everything since then, was spent in the moment rather than gazing forward into the future. Mira sheltered him in her hut at first, claiming lack of space as the reason, but it wasn't unclear to anyone that the arrangement would become permanent. Sienna had taken a liking to him as well, and she didn't mind at all that her hero stayed with them.

Deborah Tate was bedridden for a long time. Her body fought the disease and treatment equally, worrying even Elizabeth at first. Things eventually took a turn for the better and she recovered, although her recovery wasn't complete. Elizabeth had her under strict supervision, which was a constant cause of conflict for Skye. Her mother's wellbeing at Terra Nova worried her, whereas she was also needed amongst the Sixers.

Deborah eventually absolved Skye from that burden, claiming she didn't need Skye to worry about her anymore. To Deborah it was more important that Skye followed her heart and found a place where she was happy. The three years Skye had taken care of her mother had been enough; she would accept no more sacrifices from her daughter. And while Skye still made sure she saw her mother every chance she got, she no longer blamed herself for not being there.

The colony survived the storms, plagues, locust and other disasters that came their way, slowly resigning themselves from technology and adapting a more suitable way of living. The Sixers had proven it was possible, and with their link to the future severed, Taylor found reliance on technology to be too much of a hindrance. They would have to learn to survive without it, to preserve it as much as possible and use their remaining supplies only in dire need.

The change wasn't easy; the people in Terra Nova were much too comfortable under the protection of their technology at first, unlike the weathered Sixers. Survival became more than a selection of camping tricks and useful trivia. Yet everyone participated, everyone understood the need to do so. And so they adapted to the new conditions, taking up jobs that had been previously deemed too manual and giving up equipment that was too advanced on the long run. From the ashes rose a new colony, a new tribe that forsook the old ways in fear of repeating the mistakes of the future.

But in the middle of change, in the eye of the storm, Lucas and Skye remained. Their battles had been largely fought already, and it was already easier to breathe. They were together; free to walk in sunlight hand in hand, their feelings out in the open without condemnation. And they enjoyed this path together that had seemed so unreachable once upon a time. Their ordeals had tied them together, and the cords were strong although largely unseen by others.

She would often tell him they were connected by more than words and emotions. Even across time her faith had remained, even in the face of betrayal his feelings had endured. They had stood in the crossfire, forsaking loyalties and sense for one another.

* * *

In the face of night Skye returned to camp from the colony with the others, carrying the supplies that had traded with the others. It was good to get back home no matter how easy things got in Terra Nova. With time she had undergone a change in the eyes of others. Her road had been long from a child to a betrayer to a savior. She would justify her road as necessary; you fought for the things that mattered, you stood your ground. She had done all that, all on her own and at the darkest hour.

She made her way to their hut on the platform, waving good night to the familiar faces around, flashing tired smiles across the camp. She'd been the catalyst of change and most here recognized that. They had cut their ties off violently, yet violence had been necessary as she'd come to realize. No revolution was without bloodshed.

Her weary feet carried her onwards; up the ladder, across a rope bridge, towards the hut. She barely made any noise though, no, her steps were quiet, familiar. Skye stopped at the doorway, recognizing the pale light that emanated from within the hut. She smiled absent-mindedly at the sight before entering.

Lucas was working on his desk again with a furrowed brow and quick fingers. The light of his Plex (one of the few that were still used regularly these days) shone on his face. He was absorbed in his work, barely registering her arrival. It wasn't in his nature to enjoy the silence. Lucas was the kind of person to look into the horizon, give forecast to approaching disasters, and worry about preventing them. He still worked to keep them safe, to correct his own error and keep the future at bay. She wasn't quite sure if the task was futile or not. It provided him with a goal, a task he needed to keep himself busy, which was why she didn't think ill of it, even if she didn't share his pessimistic views.

Skye approached him, tying her arms around his neck and leaning against his back. He froze as she leaned over him, laid the Plex on the desk and took her hands. "You're back late," he mumbled at her, sounding curious.

"I was caught talking with mom," she explained, knowing it was all he needed.

"How is Deborah?" Lucas asked, already knowing not much had changed since the last time she'd seen her.

"Better," she settled to say. Her lips touched his neck, causing him to tense a bit. Desire travelled through his veins, her touch left him enthralled. The world and his worries seemed smaller whenever she was around. Skye had a way of taking away his fears and replacing them with light, a brighter future.

Lucas turned in his chair, causing her to retreat and stand straight, and he looked up at her. He could still feel that sting in his heart when he looked at her, a trace of pain and love entwined. Being with her felt so good, better than anything he'd done on his own. Lucas found that he was living only now that he'd found her. The rest had been little more than pretend.

He took her hands in his again, pressed kisses against the palms of her hands. The feel of his lips was electric on her skin; it affected her like nothing else. It wasn't just physical attraction, but a deeper connection. He knew her for what she was and accepted her; she'd seen the dark places inside him and shown him another way. He was all she needed.

Skye withdrew her hands to his head, pulling him closer, kissing his forehead. "I love you," she said, no longer feeling conflict for these emotions like she once had.

He rose, quickly towering above her, pulling her into an embrace, and then a hungry kiss. She pressed into it, needing this reassurance, this rejuvenation. And once their lips parted, he too whispered the words, "I love you too Bucket."

Lucas reached for the Plex, closing it for the night. Skye blew out the lantern on the table. They fumbled in the dark towards the bed, stripping themselves from clothing and then laying down on the soft mattress. Skye settled herself next to him, pressing her head over his chest. Her wild hair landed all over, golden strands of hair like heavenly fire that eroded his defenses, his heart. It felt natural to lie there, safely cradled in his arms, almost like they were made for moments like these

"Did you have nightmares last night?" he asked her, moving his fingers through her hair in a calming manner. His inquiry was a common occurrence by now. She generally woke him up whenever her anxiety got the best of her. Lucas managed to calm her down, sometimes without waking her at all. Warmth, closeness and comfort were his weapons. She hardly ever heard his soft voice snap at her these days.

"I think I did," Skye confessed, not remembering much.

"Was it Morris or Curran?" Lucas asked half-heartedly, not really expecting an answer. Both were long-gone and unable to harm her, yet they still existed in the depths of her mind, having left permanent scars.

She was quiet for a moment, took her time in contemplating her answer. Then she responded hesitantly, "Everyone was gone, and I was alone in the camp. It was deserted."

He could hear the agony in her voice, the pain. Lucas shifted a bit, but didn't say anything. He did press his lips on her temple though and inhale deeply.

"But I didn't panic. I knew I was dreaming, because you'd never leave without telling me," she then explained, sounding oddly serene.

Good, he thought to himself. Skye deserved peaceful dreams after everything she had endured. He was happy to see it slowly become a reality after the many nights he'd listened to her cry in her sleep.

"Lucas?" she asked a moment later, having waited for a comment. Lucas startled awake from his thoughts with a small noise. "What is it?" he then asked.

"Would you tell me a story?" she requested innocently.

He frowned at the request at first, not knowing what she wanted from him. Skye noticed his unease and rubbed his chest with a sigh, "Tell me about the future."

Now he was starting to see what she wanted. Lucas moved himself to a better position and cleared his throat. She wanted him to see that everything was good now; that no danger lurked in the shadow of the future. Of course life wasn't without its problems, but he'd come to accept them, accept the people that caused them, and himself as a part of that group.

"We'll learn to live together and see past our differences," he started, letting the words sink into her weary mind.

"We'll learn from the mistakes of our past, and do things better this time around," Lucas comforted her. "Instead of cities, we'll have communities. Instead of factories, we'll have fields. And you can see the moon on the night sky for many millennia to come."

She smiled sleepily at this utopia, at the way his dreamy voice described it. It sounded beautiful, a true Paradise. "But most importantly," he said, caressing her face, "We'll have each other, Bucket."

Not so long ago he hadn't been able to envision a future with them together; she had belonged to someone else. Now he knew she was with him.

Skye had closed her eyes, drifted into sleep by now. He cradled her a bit, caught in this vision for the future he had painted before sleep claimed him as well.

THE END


End file.
